


Ghosts of Aetroth

by GayCalculator



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternating Timelines, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood Rage, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, But the smut can be skipped at the fade to black, Card Games, Clerics, Clerics deserve swords, Depictions of Abuse, Elements of Horror, Fantasy, Feelings, Fictional Gods, Flashbacks, Gambling, Ghosts, Gore, Half-Elves, Himbo passing Cleric crushes on pretty boy vampire, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Its not subtle, Kinda, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Smut only tags:, Undead Creatures, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vampires, Warlocks, boys being gay, disregarding dnd rules because i feel like it, emotional whiplash, fantasy humor, past trauma, references to trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 104,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayCalculator/pseuds/GayCalculator
Summary: When a rookie Cleric decides to research undead creatures in an abandoned castle belonging to a dead vampire lord, the last thing he expected was to team up with another Vampire. With a common goal of needing to explore the Catacombs deep below the castle, the two come face to face with a variety of the undead creatures as well as the many secrets the chambers hold. However the further they explore, the more they're forced to confront the ghosts of their pasts, especially when one has a deep connection to this place that he seems to want to run from. Will they find what what they came for or will they simply have to run?Disclaimer: There will be depictions of both mental, physical, and non-graphic sexual abuse as well as PTSD in chapters to come as well as graphic descriptions of blood and gore so be careful if you're squeamish. Smut and chapter 15 can be skipped at a fade to black if so desired.Note: Parts of the chapters get updated/changed sometimes as part of my writing process! If you're a returning reader check it out if you'd like :) Most changes have taken place in parts 4,6, & 7 I also put links to some art I've commissioned!
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 20





	1. Crossing The Boarder

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @gaycalculator and say hi!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance's choice to follow a tavern bard's advice leads him to an abandoned castle in vampire country. From here he teams up with a hot vampire and an adventure kicks off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: No Trigger Warnings

The young and inexperienced cleric tried to hold his head high as he entered the grand castle framed by grey skies and a not so far off mountain range, a mere few miles from the safe borders of his home country of Magnus. The sun has never shown in this land where so very little grew, save for the overgrown rose bushes and ivy that clung to the dark stone of the fortress looming down on him. It was surrounded by a cold and barren landscape much like the stone of fear settling in his stomach. 

Lance filled his lungs with a deep breath and tried to ignore how badly he was shaking. He had left his horse in the care of a town that sat right on the border of Aetroth and Magnus, not wanting to drag an innocent animal into this stupid idea he had. He had walked nearly 15 miles since then and was aware he could turn back at any time, but knew he needed to press on. However, as he approached the entryway, past the tall and he saw that the large wooden door had already been pushed open.  
He almost called out ‘Hello?’ but knew how stupid that would be. This castle was known to be abandoned, why else would he be there? He was already alone in a country where he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed, not as a half-elf and _especially_ not as a cleric. But he couldn't just stop here and run away after he had made it to his destination. Now all he needed was to find what he had come for.  
The castle was made of dark, winding corridors with rooms hidden behind heavy doors and halls so empty they echoed the clanging of Lance’s armor. It was clear this was once a bustling palace, even if it looked like it was looted to hell and back. He passed a window and looked out onto an overgrown garden where thorny vines clung to the stone walls and mangy bushes grew exotic but deadly looking flowers. It looked like something down there would be just waiting to eat him. 

Lance took notice of the silk and velvet fabrics that lay crumpled on the floor along with broken and bent metal fixtures. There were ornate mirrors laying shattered in hallways and columns carved out of black stone. Doors to servants quarters hung bent open, stripped bare of their belongings. Lance then passed a large mural that had been painted onto the wall. It was covered in dust and the paint was peeling off, but he could still see the brilliant golds and reds. He couldn’t help but study it a moment. It was a man in regal clothing with rubies embedded throughout the design. The guy looked important at least, but when Lance’s gaze moved towards the face, he was taken aback to see scorch marks had completely defaced the subject of the painting. Clearly _something_ had to have happened here. 

He realized he was most definitely lost and had yet to find a single trace of what he had gone searching for in the first place.

“Yeah. Yeah this was a great idea, Lance. Go to this abandoned castle some _Bard_ told you about in a tavern for your research. I could’ve gone to a graveyard or haunted ship but noooo I chose-” 

Lance was complaining to himself before he pulled back some purple velvet drapes and found himself in an atrium with a high arched ceiling held up with ornate black columns and a ruby and marble mosaic on the floor beneath him. Toppled statues with arms amputated and faces caved in, littered the floor of the ruins. A throne had gathered cobwebs and dust due to years of neglect. There were three other doorways into this throne room, all cloaked in the same velvet curtains like the ones he had just ventured through. He held his breath, not daring to break the eerie silence. It was tragically gorgeous, but a ghost of its former self.

“So, you found the throne room? Then it seems you aren’t entirely the fool I took you for.” 

Lance heard a soft, rich accented voice with a smug yet charming inflection from behind him. He turned and his eyes laid on another man, who was leaning against the doorway, looking as though he was without a care in the world. The first thing he noticed was how beautiful this man was. At a glance, it wouldn’t be too hard to mistake him for a woman; with a slender face, a set of soft-looking lips, and what looked to be long, braided silver hair laying over his shoulder. He had pointed ears much like Lance did, but unlike Lance, who was tall, tanned, and liked to think of himself as fairly muscularly built, this man was short and lithe. He may have been short, but he was aided by the set of black heeled boots he wore along with a pair of leather pants with a high waistband, displaying his snake-hipped legs. He also wore an obviously costly outfit that included a high necked black blouse with swooping lace sleeves that gathered at his wrists, with frills and a set of buttons that crossed over the midsection, making the garment tight, almost corset-like, to accentuate his rather thin and feminine frame. But, alas, there were many features stopping Lance from appreciating this stranger's raw beauty. 

His skin was so pale it was nearly blue. His eyes twinkled in a shade of deep crimson, and a set of fangs were grinning at him. 

“Don’t you know it's considered rude to trespass, priest?” 

Lance felt a chill of fear shoot up his spine. His green eyes had gone wide, pupils dilated and his mouth slightly hung open. He immediately took a step back. 

“ _This place-! This place was supposed to be abandoned!_ ” Lance thought to himself. This was the last time he was going to listen to some bard in a tavern for advice on research sights! If he ever lived to make it to another tavern, that is.

“You-! You’re a-”

“Vampire. I mean were you expecting to not find a vampire in a vampire’s castle?” The stranger asked, voice laced with mirth, as though he were entertained at having found such easy prey. It made Lance feel like the biggest fool in all eight kingdoms and all three realms. He took a step closer.

Lance drew his weapon, a shiny, newly minted, silver bladed sword that was to defend him in battle along with the mark of Enrasil The Goddess of Mercy on his chest, preparing himself for what was sure to be a fight. He had no idea how strong this creature would be. The priests told them many stories of terrible vampires who would take the lives of holy men and women who opposed them. Rumor had it there were vampires who sought to draw priests into their intoxicating webs rather than kill them. They were deadly beacons of charm and beauty who looked to sink their fangs into the neck of unsuspecting victims! But he was a cleric! He would not fall prey to these tricks and traps. If a vampire was here, it was his job as a Cleric to put an end to them, right? 

“Are you going to attack me?” The vampire asked, rolling his eyes and walking closer with no regard for the thoroughly armored cleric who seemed ready to fight. He walked with an elegance and grace as his heels clacked against the ruby floor. 

“Stay back! I won’t hesitate to-” 

“I’ve done nothing to you.” The vampire held his hands up in mock surrender and grinned. “I’m just a civilian who’s trespassing just like you. Are you going to kill me for that while you do the same thing yourself? Fitting judgment for a priest, no?” 

Lance was thrown off, not knowing how to respond, so instead he stared.

“I can see you’re bad at answering questions.” 

“I was told this place was abandoned…”

“Oh, it is. It’s so dilapidated it could make you cry. And I was hoping to score some riches while I was here, but it seems they beat me to it.”

“So you aren’t the lord of this castle?” Lance suddenly felt quite stupid.

This made the vampire laugh out loud. It was a rather warm sounding laugh. “Sorry to disappoint but no, I’m not. Now if you could put your sword away maybe you could greet me properly.”

Lance hesitated, but he did draw back his sword. His snap judgement had been wrong. To his knowledge, the stranger was simply just on an adventure like he was, yet he was ready to attack him. Lance felt...ashamed, but he had clearly been given a second chance to make a first impression. However, instead of introducing himself, he just stared dumbly, because despite being a vampire, he was still awfully pretty. The vampire sighed and gave a polite head bow.

“I’m Cecil Baranski. I must say, it's rare to see a Magnus priest in such a dreary place like Aetroth. Now, if you could tell me your name?” 

“L-Lance. Lance Rotenk,” Lance bowed back a bit himself. It was the polite thing to do, wasn’t it? 

“See was that so hard? I’m just a person like you are, so you can stop acting like you’re scared I’ll sink my fangs into you, less you pray to your gods like you love to do. But, I am curious. What’s such an inexperienced priest doing here of all places?” 

It had become obvious to Cecil that this priest had no clue what he was doing. To enter an obviously deadly place without so much as a party alongside him? A Cleric was gifted divine magic and had the power of healing, but that didn’t make them a threat without the experience of facing dungeons and dragons, and even then, they needed strong warriors as support. Cecil also knew that Clerics like Lance were trained in groups in the temples, guided by priests and babysat by a hero-for-hire who took them out on the occasional field mission. These Clerics would go on either to support their temples or to aid the military and garrisons, however, many broke off and started calling their own shots as well, but Lance was still a rookie, to say the least. This was why Cecil had followed him as soon as he had heard the clanging of armor on the stone corridors as he was passing through the residential wing of the castle. Not that Cecil would find what he had come there for but...maybe it was simply for his own nostalgia. It was then he grew curious and decided to follow the individual using a combination of crawling walls, hiding in the shadows, and his superior knowledge of the castle layout. He was a bumbling fledgling, who knocked over a display of rusted spears and swords and tripped over a pile of rubble with a rather unceremonious crash. If anyone hostile had still been living on this level he would’ve most certainly been dead or severely injured by now. But Cecil would be lying if only the bumbling caught his attention.

“I’m here to study t-types of undead creatures…and I’m a fully-fledged Cleric of Enrasil!” Lance decreed, trying to puff out his chest and speak with all the authority he could muster.

“It’s rather unorthodox to do so in the castle of a vampire lord don't you think?” 

“I was listening to what a bard in a tavern told me…”

“Oh, you’ll get yourself killed that way. If I were you I’d turn around and leave. I’ll even walk you out if you’d like.” 

“No! No, I came here with a job to do. I want to help protect people and well...if I’m to join a guild as a holy consultant I should build up my skill set shouldn’t I?” 

Lance suddenly felt a wave of pride declaring this. Regardless of Cecil’s intentions, he was proud to state his creed and goal to protect the innocent and serve the Gods. Though it seemed like Cecil was merely amused at his noble decree, simply smiling and shaking his head like he had heard it all before. Lance’s gaze failed to pull away as Cecil waltzed across the vast room to sit in the throne, his legs thrown and crossed over the armrests as he lounged on the grand throne as if he were in a tavern. He swung them idly as his black cloak draped along the floor beneath him and looked at his black nails, though they seemed to be more like claws. 

“Well, it’s not my job to scold you for being stupid, but since you’re here, maybe we can help each other out.” Cecil glanced towards him, eyes narrowed with mischief and a grin. 

“What is your meaning?”

“You want to study the undead, I'm here seeking something important to me. If we work together you can do your research and I won’t have to watch my back as much. You see, I am rather delicate and I could use a big strong chain mailed warrior like you protecting me. And the fact you’re a cleric doesn’t hurt either. You should put that sacred flame to better use than just as a torchlight.” 

Lance knew of vampires’ dastardly charming ways, though mind control was more accurate. However...he did not feel like he was under some spell or as if he had been robbed of his free will. Cecil was just that good...and being called big and strong didn’t hurt his case either. That twinkle in his eye and proud little grin could’ve charmed an army into laying down their weapons and surrendering. 

“O-okay... Okay let's do it!” 

Lance pumped his fist in the air as if to hype himself up. He knew agreeing to work with a vampire might be stupid but it was the best option he had. Besides he wasn’t getting anywhere stumbling through a castle knocking over displays. He hoped Cecil hadn’t seen that happen. 

Cecil smiled, pleased that he had a companion for this little adventure. As skilled with his Book of Tomes as he was, he was rather defenseless, as shown by his choice to wear expensively tailored clothing made of leather and silks and lace over anything armor. If he was already physically weak, what difference was armor going to make at the end of the day? 

“Wonderful. Now that that's out of the way, you aren’t going to find any undead on this level...save for myself. For that, you need to go further below. Conveniently, that's where I need to go as well.” 

“How do we get down there? Did I miss a basement entrance or-?”

“So naive, it's rather cute.” Cecil teased, watching the cleric avert his gaze and blush. He placed his hand on one of the larger rubies that adorned the throne.

“Luckily, I know just where to look. Now I’d stand over here if I were you.” 

Lance promptly did as he was told, moving over to Cecil who still lounged in the ornate chair like a cat. Cecil’s finger, which was adorned with a ring pressed down on the ruby. The mosaic then made a creaking sound and began to move apart like a puzzle opening up. Lance watched it with awe as the pieces moved to reveal a long, seemingly endless staircase into a dark abyss below them. He looked to Cecil. 

“For your assortment of zombies, ghosts and everything in between, you’ll want to look through the Catacombs below, where every enemy, servant, and slave found their burial. It hasn’t been opened up for say...two decades? So I’m certain whatever’s crawling around down there is eager for some company.” 

Lance felt a pitfall in his stomach.

_“So I’m supposed to just trust this guy? He seems to know what he’s talking about but he’s a vampire! Gods, what’s going to stop him from biting down on me once we’re alone? Not that being alone with him would be soooo bad- No what am I saying! If he tries anything I can always just heal myself but gods how strong is he? I shouldn’t be here I should not be here-”_

“Are you coming?” Cecil asked, interrupting Lance’s thoughts, apparently having moved while he was spaced out, now standing one foot on the staircase descending below. He was looking expectantly.

“Y-yes!” Lance exclaimed 

“You know you’re lucky I found you when I did because if you had made it any further inside...you’d already be long dead darling” Cecil looked back at him with a wink. 

And with that, the pair descended ever further down into the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for clicking and welcome to the first chapter of my pet project! I would love any feedback yall can give and I'm happy to answer questions! This first chapter is extremely tame for what will be coming down the line just as a heads up. I love writing this and I hope yall will get intrigued enough to come back again and again!
> 
> I already have most of this story written already so I'm going to be updating it twice a week!


	2. Into the Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After entering the Catacombs below, Lance finds himself asking more and more questions about his vampiric companion who seems to have a connection to this place far deeper than he ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Blood and Combat  
> implications of past abuse

“They couldn’t put arm rails on these?” Lance asked as he tried to make his way down the staircase as cautiously as possible, dreading the idea of tripping over his own two feet and hurtling however many stories down.

“If you think about it too much then you’ll trip,” Cecil chirped back as he guided the pair. Thankfully, both of them had the ability to see in the dark, so they didn’t need much light, however, Lance insisted on using his Sacred Flame as a torch, like before. They were walking mostly in silence, save for the sounds of their footsteps and the dripping sounds of water coming from the underground complex. 

“So what exactly is this place?” Lance asked as he could see the floor slowly start to get closer. 

“Like I said, it's the catacombs of this castle. While it is a burial place for whoever came to die in this castle, there’s plenty of secrets hidden here as well…” Lance noticed the mirth seemed to drop from Cecil’s voice as he said this. 

“If you don’t mind me asking...why keep so many bodies?” he asked, as the custom in his home country of Magnus was to burn the bodies of the dead.

“Have you ever heard of necromancing?” Cecil questioned in reply, turning his head to grin at the cleric. 

Necromancers were warlocks skilled in bringing the dead back to life mostly to use as an undead army. The idea of it made Lance’s blood run cold.  
“I’m kidding,” Cecil cackled a bit, somewhat seeing the clear dread on the cleric’s face. 

“For our sake, I hope you are... I don’t think I’m ready to deal with necromantized vampire corpses,” He laughed awkwardly. “Warlocks, man...they kinda freak me out, you know?”

“Is it because they make deals with demons?” He didn’t skip a beat. 

Lance hesitated. Technically, his answer should be yes, after all, demons were the opposite of the holy beings he aligned himself with. That's how Warlocks gained their powers. They made a deal with a powerful being, whether they be a fiend, a fey, or an eldritch being. But in reality, he didn’t actually care. Sure, he was freaked out by the idea of Warlocks but...he wasn’t going to discount them so readily.

“N-no it’s just...some of their spells are really creepy. Like Chill Touch! What is that? Some hand grabbing you to drain your life like what! Does that not freak you out?” 

“I have a strong stomach,” Cecil then set foot on the solid floor, stepping to the side and pulling out a torch from his side bag and using a match to light it. The glow from the torch illuminated Cecil’s lovely face in the dark entryway. Lance caught himself once again staring at his companion’s shallow cheekbones and pale white skin. 

They were blocked off from the catacombs by a single heavy door made from iron and silver. Whatever laid behind that door wasn’t going to be happy to see them it felt like. 

“It looks like we need a key…” Lance observed a keyhole that looked like a spider had begun to make its home inside. 

“Hold this,” Cecil reached back into his bag and pulled out a red handkerchief. He unwrapped it, revealing a key to Lance. A key made of black iron with a large ruby on its handle. Cecil slid the key into the hole, which was then followed by the loud groan of the metal that came with it as he turned it, letting out another due to exerted effort, shifting the tumblers of the lock for the first time in...who knows how long?

“Shit-” Cecil’s hand slid from the key as it was stuck halfway through, the key most likely caught in the rust, causing him to fall forward a bit. “Mind giving me a hand?”

“No problem,” Lance smiled, seeing that Cecil wasn't entirely perfect apparently. He didn’t know exactly what Cecil’s abilities at this point were but he was willing to bet it wasn’t strength-based. Lance took hold of the key and exerted some effort, turned it the rest of the way, feeling the key come out smoother then it seemed to have gone in. He handed it back to Cecil, only to wonder...why did he have this key? 

Regardless, Cecil looked pleased as he took the key back, giving him a smile.

“Like I said, big and strong,” He winked. 

“O-only as much as it’s needed you know?” He reached for the door handle before he felt someone grab his hand. It was Cecil’s cold hand atop his. 

“Wait. This door hasn’t been open in over 20 years. I have no clue what’s waiting for us. If you want to turn back now, I won’t judge you,” The vampire’s voice held a seriousness that Lance thought sounded strange coming from him.

“Don’t worry about me! Besides I’m not one to leave someone who needs my help behind! We’re a team aren't we?” Lance wasn’t sure if it was the light, but Cecil was looking at him warmly, a genuine smile on his face. 

“You better not disappoint me then, priest.” 

Lance then did the honors of pulling open the door causing it to, unfortunately, slam open forcing a sound to resonate throughout the tunnels, most likely alerting anything that was down there of their presence. Cecil looked up at Lance with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, it was unavoidable. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Cecil shrugged before he waltzed inside, again as if he had not a care. 

“Normally we might be screwed but...you’re a cleric,” Cecil smirked, looking up at the half-elf.

“Well yeah but...OH!” At first, Lance was confused as to what Cecil was referring to, but then remembered the obvious. “Detect evil and good I got it- I got it okay!”

Detect Evil and Good was a spell most Clerics and Paladins learned at some point. It was an easy spell that allowed them to detect the location of both good and evil entities, such as the undead, around them up to 30 feet for 10 minutes. Lance had used it many times in training but this time, he actually was using it for protection. Waves of excitement began to flood his body. He stepped forward and relaxed, closing his eyes and facing the three hallways they had to choose from. 

First, he walked up to the hallway to the left. He detected two entities-- emaciated zombies chained to the walls-- trying to break free. It made him shudder. He wasn’t sure what laid beyond, but it was certainly not going to be good. 

The right hallway didn’t have any shambling corpses, but he felt the pull of multiple spirits, not all evil, but not all good either Ghosts were funny that way. It was hard to judge them so quickly, however, he still wasn’t up to cross paths with one so soon. 

He walked towards the hallway they were facing and sensed nothing, a clear shot at least for the first 30 feet. Not to say something further down wasn’t waiting for them, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

Eyes still closed he began to turn back to Cecil, but that's when he sensed another presence, dangerously close. Lance felt his adrenaline spike as he grabbed his sword, reaching out and pulling Cecil out of the way.  
“BEHIND!” His eyes shot open as he swung before realizing he was swinging at...nothing. But he still was sensing the huge presence! It had to be somewhere! It had to be-

“Lance, must I remind you that _I_ am undead as well?” Cecil asked, tapping Lance on the shoulder from where he stood. Lance blushed in embarrassment. Of course, Cecil would be showing up on such a radar.

Of course, a vampire would be detected as an evil entity. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate your quick response but I would prefer not to get my head sliced off today,” Cecil placed his hand on the sword's blade to move it out of his way. “Now what did you see?”  
Lance recounted what he had seen waiting for them, as Cecil nodded along. 

“To the left is where prisoners were kept and spells were performed, to the right the tombs themselves,” Cecil explained before he looked into the long dark hallway in front of them where Lance had sensed nothing. 

“That way. It would be best if we avoided going that way. I fear what we may see down there.” The grim tone returned to Cecil’s now soft voice. “So let's go down the hall with the zombies. You’re studying the undead, aren’t you? Time to get some fieldwork in, Priest” And the mirth returned quickly as it had gone. 

Lance gulped. 

_“Am I ready for this?”_

He looked at Cecil. He knew nothing about him, in fact, he had his suspicions about him. But he wasn’t in the clean halls of the temple of the Mortal Gods anymore, he needed to trust whatever allies he had.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Besides, I’m excited to see what you can do.”

Cecil smirked and started forward. 

“Who knows, Maybe they’ll be happy to see me.” Cecil said, softly to himself this time. 

The zombies growled at them as they approached, lurching forward at the pair but held back by their chains, left clawing and snarling at them as they stood a distance back. 

“Thanks to necromancy these creatures need not sleep nor eat. They’re here as guards. Or some might say messengers to not venture forward” Cecil explained as they observed them. 

There were many types of undead creatures, zombies were common, along with ghosts and skeletons. However, there were far more deadly creatures as well. Ones that could drain your very soul from your body, age you decades beyond your youth, drive you mad with a glancing look if you weren't careful. Clerics and Paladins were the most equipped to handle these forces, with their radiant magic acting as one of the most potent weaknesses of the undead, though being armed with a good weapon always made things easier.

“They don’t look like they ever were alive, to begin with,” Lance observed their leathery skin and gaunt appearances. He had never seen a zombie so old before.

“That's because these two are at least two decades old. They’re being mummified by the very magic that keeps them going.” Cecil replied as the zombies continued to try and move forward.

“That's actually...kinda sad” Lance sighed, thinking about being resigned to such a fate.

“They’re the ones who died in such a grim place.” Cecil shrugged “Don’t you think we should put them out of their misery?” 

Lance drew his sword, firmly gripping the hilt as his green eyes trained on the corpses. But then he realized Cecil was doing nothing, he had drawn no weapons nor had he dropped a fighting stance, pulled forth a spellbook or anything of the sort! It was then Lance realized, what exactly was Cecil?

“Aren’t you going to fight?”

“In time” Cecil was looking at his nails, well really they were black claws again, giving little to no indication he was going to fight. Lance was speechless but he shook his head, he would deal with this later. 

He charged the first slash connecting with the right zombie’s head. However, it did not slice clean through. The leathery hide of the corpse caught the blade and if not for Lance’s superior strength, may have been stuck in its neck. The move finished with Lance finishing a slice across its chest, forcing the creature to let out a pained moan. Lance let out a small but triumphant laugh, jumping back to avoid an attack.

“These things are pretty shit guards!” 

Cecil wasn’t so sure. He knew that they wouldn’t have such shoddy defenses up if there wasn’t some kind of trick involved. While it seemed Lance was capable with a sword, his perceptiveness was lacking. Cecil watched one of the zombies try to bite Lance on the shoulder, which rattled him but caused no damage. Lance responded with an armored elbow to the job, knocking the zombie off its equilibrium, to which Lance was then able to slice it in two with a well-aimed slash. He focused on the last one, adding some flare by torching it with a sacred flame, a move that wasted no energy yet the radiant magic that came from it caused more damage, therefore setting the injured zombie ablaze in a way that quickly died down. The glow irritated Cecil slightly. 

“I did it!” Lance was laughing, fist-pumping the air, sword in hand. “I got my first kills!”

Something was wrong. These zombies were slow, stupid, and old, perfect target practice for a young upstart trying to bite off more than they could chew by exploring an abandoned castle…

_“Shit.”_

As soon as Cecil realized the trick, the earth beneath Lance’s feet began to shift. The cleric was too busy celebrating his win at first to notice, but in the next moment, two hands shot up from the dirt and wrapped around Lance’s legs. 

“By the gods!” Lance exclaimed as a much stronger, _fresher_ zombie used his body as a weight by which to pull itself up by. Lance tried to kick it away but its grip on his legs had grown too tight and he soon found himself falling backward, hitting the hard ground with a hard thud, his head ricocheting in his helmet. He winced, opening his eyes just to see the corpse pulling itself out of the ground towards him, its rotting face now near his chest, jaw wide and looking to bite as thin fingers grabbed at his armor to rip it away. Lance tried to scream as he lifted his head but he was more focused on trying to escape the death grip but it just grew closer and closer-

Then a blinding purple light filled the room. Lance had to shut his eyes to avoid it as it was just so close to him. He braced himself for whatever it was, before realizing he felt no pain, from anything in fact. He pushed away what he thought to be the zombie and scrambled back before he realized what was happening.  
Two bolts of what looked like purple lightning were shooting out from Cecil’s outstretched hand as he stepped closer. The zombie atop Lance was now fried to a crisp, smoke coming from the body which was now unmoving. Lance looked at the charges of electricity still clinging to the corpse as he got to his feet, eyes wide. 

“You’re a warlock?!” Lance exclaimed. He had immediately recognized the spell Cecil used. It was called Eldritch Blast, a spell attack only Warlocks could use and could use as many times as one needed without losing any energy.  
“Guilty as charged. I was wondering when you would figure it out” Cecil seemed entertained as he stepped over the body so he was now at Lance’s side again. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no I’m good, Thanks for the save” Lance moved the small braid he wore in his hair out of his face. “Sooooo how long have you been a warlock?” 

“A little over two decades now.” Cecil replied as he inspected the pathway ahead of them for any tricks. “How long have you been a Cleric? A full Cleric.”  
“Well I’ve been In training for a little over a year now, I’m only 26.” Half-elves aged like humans did until they hit 20. From then on, they aged much slower, 40 years being the equivalent of 25 to a human, both in mind and body. “But I’ve been an official Cleric for about 6 months.”  
“Good thing you began your training so many years in.” Cecil commented, “It gives you time to form your own beliefs rather than blindly following the Temples teachings.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I believe too many young people give themselves to a life of service without living first. It's a shame to lose your freedom so young.” Cecil had a point. Many priests and acolytes had been brought into temple life at a young age, most likely as orphans of war or abandonment. It was a flaw in the system, to say the least. Many of them hadn’t even considered other directions in their life. “But you, what made you join?” 

Lance looked at the sword in his hand, the glimmering hilt staring back at him.

“I felt like it was a way to turn my life around. Redeem myself through the light of Enrasil.” 

Lance thought back to the caravan he lived in as a child, how they would camp under the stars and how his mother would cook stew from the roots he found in the forests. It's as if he had known to ignore the bloodstains on clothing and the scraping of a sharpened sword. For a long time, he had ignored it, until the day he saw that blood on his own hands and could do so no longer. 

Cecil saw how Lance had gone quiet as he seemed to stare at his sword in contemplation, how the light had gone from those green eyes even in the dark of the dungeon. 

“So you’ve seen some shit. But that’s alright, we all have once or twice.” Cecil spoke genuinely. “From what I’ve seen, you’ve redeemed yourself plenty.” He smiled “You’re a good person, maybe a little too good” 

“You think so?” Lance rubbed the back of his neck, looking away before he realized Cecil was still walking forward. “Hey wait up!” 

“Be careful. It's clear that He set up more traps than I was expecting.” Cecil held his hand up so Lance would stay behind him.  
_“What does he mean by He?”_ Lance thought, going back to trying to figure out what exactly Cecil’s connection to this place was, but he held his tongue. He then watched Cecil take a deep breath and beneath them, parts of the stone path ahead of them began to glow.  
“Spell traps. Think of them as trap switches, only instead of a poison dart, we might wake up whatever’s sleeping below. Accidentally walk on one and we might be dealing with more zombies than either of us bargained for.”  
“How’d you find that?” Lance asked, his eyes tracing the clearly marked out path through the glowing minefield. 

“Just a little arcana check. If magics in the air hopefully I can find it before it finds us.” Cecil took Lance's hand and began to lead them through, keeping his eyes downward. 

“So you said you’ve been a warlock for 20 years?” Lance broke the silence with his question.

“And a wonderful 20 years it’s been.”  
“If uh...you don’t mind me asking...How old are you?” 

Cecil snickered at this with a grin on his face, glancing back to Lance.  
“Do you want my age in Half elf years or Vampire years?”  
_“Would that make much difference?”_ Lance pondered. Cecil didn’t look old at all, using human ages, he would’ve placed him around late 20’s. Why did he ask about half elf years? “Oh I know how human ages work! You don’t need to put it in half elf years” Lance appreciated the consideration 

Cecil blinked. 

“I...I figured. But before I was a vampire I was a half-elf as well.”  
“BUT YOU’RE SO SHORT” Lance exclaimed, yelling louder than he intended, momentarily afraid he would wake the dead. But he was shocked. Sure Cecil had pointy ears but didn’t all vampires? 

“Y-yes I am!” Cecil defended himself, sounding somewhat flustered. However he was noticeably short for a half-elf, and he knew this. Most half-elves retained the natural height of their elven heritage, the women averaging about 5’10, and the men around 6 feet tall, where Lance stood a few inches above average at 6’4. However, Cecil was kissing 5’7 with heels on, which without he would’ve been 5’5. “Not that I mind being petite but it’s not that big of a deal!”  
“It’s kinda cute actually” Lance teased back as they stepped out of the minefield, momentarily mourning the loss of Cecil’s cold hand in his, knowing full well that if Cecil hadn’t been there that he would’ve walked headfirst into this trap, awakening who knows how many creatures that would have eaten him alive. For all Lance’s inexperience, he knew power didn’t come from raw strength alone. “I guess I didn’t realize it sooner because I thought the pointy ears were because… well…” 

“Because I’m a vampire? Thankfully I retained my elven ears. I know they’re similar but I always found vampire ears to be a bit too grotesque.” Cecil replied, twitching his ears a bit for emphasis. Vampire ears were stiff with cartilage with wide points at the top, not the thin and elegant ears that came from elven heritage. They could move expressly, along with a certain heightened sensitivity to both sound and touch. “But, to answer your question, I’m eternally a 48-year-old half-elf. I get to keep my beauty for the rest of my afterlife.” Cecil preened rather vainly, but it's not as if he was wrong. He was quite a creature of beauty.  
“Oh so you’re not much older than me!” 

“Well I wouldn’t say that”  
Lance tilted his head before remembering Cecil was still a vampire, a creature that would never die from ageing and retained their physical appearance from the day they were turned, with the exception of hair growth and the addition of other vampiric traits.  
“Guess how old I am.” Cecil said playfully.  
“Um...70?”  
“Nope”  
“100?”

“Nope” 

“10,000?” 

That made Cecil stop in his tracks to give him a look of sheer confusion. That would’ve made him older than the known gods or any civilization.  
“No. But I’m almost 300 if I recall correctly, but I’ve lost track. Cecil then sauntered forward, arms behind his back with his braid swaying, leaving Lance to stare. 

“Oh.” Lance stared at him from behind before deciding that wasn’t too old for him. 

They walked further down passing what looked like a prison ward. There were rows of cells hidden away by heavy doors, but it was obvious what they were. Light fixtures hung on the sides of the stone walls, presumably to lead the way. Lance wondered how often these prisoners would hear people pass by, a cruel reminder of their solitary entrapment. 

“Any prisoners who were chained up here were either moved or killed long ago.” Cecil commented, his eyes focused straight ahead as if he’d walked this path a million times.

“Why did they need a dungeon?” Lance’s mind was immediately wracked with answers, most of them falling on cattle farms.  
“Most people that were kept here were either people who betrayed the Lord, making an attempt on his life or selling information to another lord trying to get ahead in The Game. Assassins, traitors, sometimes a hunter or two. While they took exception to trespassers they were normally just dumped off on Magnus’ border if they were deemed to not be a threat. Anyone else down here most likely didn’t make it back out.” Cecil sounded grim like a chill had just run down his spine. 

The Game was what referred to the constant game of chess the lords and ladies of Aetroth played, using their servants and slaves as pawns. The allyships born and broken at the Galas held by those at the top of the food chain. There were no rules and nothing was illegal unless you got caught, and even if you were, it was easy to buy your way out of punishment. If you were the aristocracy that was. The aristocracy made up of the most powerful vampires in the small country, where those of a vampiric persuasion were in the majority. It was rare to find outsiders unless they had something to offer, such as their skills with a blade or their proficiency with a silver tongue. No two lords or ladies were the same. Some kept humans by their side almost as pets, never to be harmed or used, but simply to care for as an inferior being. Others decided to show their might by lending their armies and skills to war efforts in other kingdoms, living free of consequences, and enjoying the show. Some were scholars, some were businessmen, but they held dominion over anyone, not in the courts. Especially their slaves.

“I...I wonder why this guy built his castle so close to Magnus.” Lance replied softly.

The ruined castle they currently walked through was so close to Magnus that it sat as a looming silhouette on the horizon of the border, a grim reminder of what was just beyond the hills of dying grass where clouds hung permanently in the sky. 

“The Bard told you about it yes?” Cecil asked, coming to what looked like a simple door at the end of the hall, however, it had no keyhole under the handle, just a strangely shaped indent. Cecil simply retrieved the key that had unlocked the dungeon door, however this time he turned it sideways, pressing the ruby on the end of the key to the indent. It began to glow for a moment, the glow tracing the handle of the door before the key was replaced by a shifted gear, pushing the gem safely out of the hole and unlocking the door. Cecil pocketed the key again.

 _“That's one hell of a key. Wonder how he got it?”_ Lance thought but said nothing as they entered a second stairwell, the path lit by glowing crystals. “Yeah...He told me that the Lord of this castle used to cross the border to bring people back to his castle. How he would show up dressed in fine clothing, dripping with wealth, and would whisk them away, never to be seen again. He even mentioned how there used to be a temple there, but the Vampire lord scared them off one night. It was all in a song.” 

Lance was now just following Cecil, trusting he wasn’t taking him somewhere to eat him. However he didn’t feel frightened at all. He didn’t have a reason to not trust him, even if it was clear he wasn’t getting the full truth about this place. 

“There’s your answer. He always found the people of Magnus entertaining, so when he was bored, he would go spirit away someone else. He promised them freedom from their current situation along with whatever their heart desired. It all stopped the day he died.” They came to a room at the end of the staircase. It was barren save for a few crystal lanterns and another large door. 

“That's strange...there shouldn’t be a door here.” Cecil spoke almost to himself, reaching out for the handle and gave it a pull. 

“Cecil, how do you-” Lance started before he heard a growl in front of them. 

The door Cecil had pulled open slammed shut and where the handle had been was replaced by a wide-mouthed, sharp-toothed snarl, a long tongue salivating as two arms and two legs grew from the wooden frame. 

“A mimic! Of Course, it’s a fucking mimic!” Cecil exclaimed in mock disbelief, pulling back and forming an Eldritch Blast in his hand but before he could do anything, the tongue shot out to grab his wrist, disrupting the spell and making the vampire lurch forward towards its gaping mouth, trying to pull him in. 

“WHAT IS THAT?” Lance quickly grabbed his sword, trying to ignore how freaked out he was, even if he was visibly panicked.  
“A mimic just-! JUST SLICE IT!” Cecil was trying to pull his wrist free, his boot-mounted against the face of the creature trying to apply some more force to little avail, taking all his physical strength to avoid getting pulled in. 

Lance let out a battle cry as he charged the beast, thrusting his sword forward, narrowly avoiding hitting Cecil as well, though the tip of his blade only collided with some teeth. In retaliation, the barbed tongue shot forward at Cecil, who moved his face just in time, but still felt the sting of a barbed tongue against his cheek which had a gash, now dripping blood.  
“Okay now you’ve done it!” Cecil raised his free hand and in an instant, flames appeared in the air, surrounding both him and the mimic which then dive-bombed down upon the creature. Cecil was able to pull his hand free but he still stumbled backward, ignoring the painful searing he felt on his hands. The Mimic was burned and retracted its tongue, only to grab Lance this way now too. It pulled the Cleric forward and bit down hard on his arm, teeth piercing just enough into the chainmail sleeve he wore to cause Lance pain. He winced and let out a groan, but his pained expression turned into a smirk. 

Lance took this as an opportunity to gather the radiant energy needed for his own magical attack. His hand in the mouth of the creature, he formed a bolt of pure white energy, unlike the eldritch blast it was holy in nature, inflicting radiant damage on the Mimic as it shot a Guiding Bolt into its body. The creature let out a shriek of pain and let Lance go immediately, the inside of its mouth now glowing bright. Cecil was still clutching his burned hands to his chest, but made it to his feet anyway, abandoning his cloak that had caught on fire in the blast as well. He ignored the blood spilling from his cheek as he formed two bolts of an eldritch blast in his hands, focusing both bolts forward to pierce the monster in its throat where Lance had created a target through its opened mouth, but it stung. His hands were stinging from the burns. It seemed only one bolt had hit its mark, causing slight damage but more just angering the damaged beast. The tongue shot out towards Cecil yet again, wrapping its tongue around Cecil’s leg and dragging him back towards the mouth, still wanting to eat him apparently.  
“Why is this thing so obsessed with me?” He complained, trying to ignore the stinging feeling of the teeth-baring into his leg, threatening to crawl further up his body. 

“Hold still Ceece!” Lance brought it’s sword down right on the Mimic’s tongue, slicing the appendage in two with a slight gush of blood. The monster screamed and the tongue around Cecil had gone limp and stopped constricting him. Lance then gripped his sword tight and shoved it straight into the mimic’s mouth, the hands of the creature grabbing at his breastplate to no avail, the silver blade piercing through the monster’s body to the other side, only coating Lance’s forearms in a bit of gelatinous green blood. The door Mimic fell limp to the ground. 

“I did it!” Lance pulled his sword free as Cecil worked his way out of the tongue, but it was difficult with how much his hands were hurting. 

It was the best option Cecil had at that moment. Hellish Rebuke was the perfect counter-attack, being able to dive-bomb an enemy from a distance away after they had hurt you. Cecil had used it many times and it would never miss. However using it on an enemy that was meer inches away from him, who was currently grappling him, was less than wise. Afterall, Vampires were extremely vulnerable to fire. 

“Good job…” Cecil grinned up at Lance who was trying to shake the goopy blood off his sword, as he held his hands to his chest. There was a sting in his leg where his pants had been punctured by the teeth and his cheek still dripped blood, but he was happy to see Lance celebrate such a deserved victory. 

Lance had resheathed his blade before he looked at Cecil. All at once, he realized Cecil had taken much more damage than he. The crimson blood on his pale white cheek like blood on a white rose. He was standing slumped against the door as if it hurt to stand on one leg, and he kept his hands clutched to his chest. 

“You’re hurt!” Lance quickly came to his side and rather instinctively scooped the smaller man up into his arms, holding Cecil bridal style. “Here don’t walk on it. Let's find a place to rest and I can heal you up.” 

“Y-you don’t have to carry me I’m fi-aaan” Cecil winced when he felt how his leg pinched. 

“Maybe I could prop you up somewhere around here…” Lance was looking around and blatantly missed the huge room the Mimic had been guarding until Cecil tapped him.  
“If you don’t mind I’d much rather prefer to rest in there.” He smirked teasingly at Lance and pointed in the direction of where the mimic had been. Lance followed and soon his eyes fell on what was a hidden room that the mimic had been hiding. 

It was a large red-walled circular room where they were surrounded by ornate bookshelves that seemed to spiral around the room in rows with crystal lanterns on the wall illuminating the room in a warm glow. There was a long velvet lined chair the size for someone to lounge about in, as well as a desk adorned with what looked like magic artifacts and curiosities. It was clear this was the lair of someone well versed in the magical arts. Lance saved his awe until after he had laid Cecil on the lounge chair. Looking down at him, he actually thought he looked alluring. 

Cecil still felt the searing pain in his hands, but he ignored it long enough to truly appreciate all Lance had been doing for him. 

_“I thought he would just be a rookie I would have to babysit...but I owe him a lot.”_ He was kind and handsome, as well as strong and reliable. Of course, Cecil would have to be healed up before he could begin any form of repaying him. 

“Just relax, I got you.” Lance smiled, kneeling next to Cecil. He used the ability Cure Wounds, his hands glowing with a soft golden glow and while he momentarily hesitated, his cheeks blushing when he realized how _close_ they were, he placed his hands on Cecil’s cheek and thigh respectively. 

“My, so forward.” Cecil smirked coyly as he felt Lance’s hands on him. Unlike Lance, he wasn’t flustered in the slightest. It was far from the first time he had found himself in the hands of a handsome man, though he wondered about Lance’s experience with such things. 

“I-I hope that feels better” Lance stuttered, noticing just how petite Cecil seemed compared to him as he healed him. How Cecil’s cheek was still cold under Lance’s hand, making him wonder if his small but pouty lips were just as cold to the touch. Lance had partners before but he had never been with a man, despite knowing full well he was attracted to men just as much as he was attracted to others. It simply had never come about for him, despite the many crushes he had over the years. He wondered...did he have a crush on- 

“It does. Thank you very much, Lance.” Cecil’s hand was a top Lance’s, gently pulling his hand from his cheek, a warm smile on his face. He leaned up from his resting spot on the lounge bench so the two were now much closer, making Lance catch his breath, catching his gaze in Cecil’s red eyes. “I owe you it seems.” 

“D-don’t mention it!” Lance brushed the small braid that hung from his hair out of his face, feeling the urge to retreat from Cecil’s all too charming gaze, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on him. “It’s my job as a Cleric to heal after all! I-” he stopped. He had finally caught sight of Cecil’s hands. 

They were burned, but not in the way a burn manifested on human skin. The deep purple burn marks almost looked like a bruise that twisted and spread across the backs and palms of the vampire's hands. 

_“This must have happened when Cecil casted that fire spell.”_ Lance thought as he gently took his hand in his to look closer. Anyone with two cents knew that vampires were weak to fire, which was why Lance was somewhat surprised to see Cecil use a fire attack like he had done. _“To use an attack like that at such close range…”_

“I promise I’m fine. I wouldn’t have used it if I thought I would die from it.” Cecil tried to make light of how much pain he must have been in with a teasing chirp. “Hellish Rebuke is one of my more reliable spells. It never misses and I normally use it from a safe distance. But for something like that, it was a calculated risk.” He explained his logic, even if it made Lance frown. 

“But an attack like that can hurt you. Why would you use it?” Lance’s hands began to glow as he held both of Cecil’s hands gently, the healing energies washing over the burns. 

“It was always a good defense against any I feared would come for me.” Cecil replied softly, as if he was deep in thought, haunted. “It was one of the spells my patron gave me when we first made our deal.” 

Lance didn’t know how to feel about the look in Cecil’s eyes. Calm, charming, confident Cecil who hadn’t flinched when coming face to face with a cleric’s sword. But to see him act as if he was scared of something so much so he would use a spell that could put his life at risk, it reminded him what he wanted to ask before the Mimic attacked. 

“But anyway, this room was why I wanted us to come down this way in the first place.” Cecil pulled his hands away and got up from the lounge chair, stepping past Lance to display the selection of books to him, his now messy braid twirling around as he presented them. 

_“So he knew about this room?”_ Lance realized, standing up now to walk over and take in just how many books there were.  
“Rather than try to fight every creature in here, every little thing you need to know should be in these writings.” With a wave of his hand, a few books flew down towards them and Lance took notice of the titles. 

_Litchs, Demons and Horrors_

_Curses of the Undead_

_Countering Holy Spells_

_How to Lose, Steal and Regain a Soul_

And many others. It was everything he needed to know and more. This had clearly been the collection of a great scholar as there were books related to not just things like necromancy and undead creatures, but also spell books of wizards and clerics, guides to dark spells and healing magic alike. Encyclopedias of beasts that spanned the continent. 

It was everything that Lance was looking for and more, and Cecil had led him right to it. 

“Cecil this... This is amazing!” Lance exclaimed, taking the books and scrolls into his hands, trying to take them in all at once. The temple he had trained at had a lack of literature on these topics, the focus only on the lore and history of their world and the gods. He had always clung to the displays of magic he saw from his mother, only able to replicate her Sacred Flame as his father trained him in the art of theft and blades. It was up to him to fulfill his curiosities. “Thank you so much! This is everything I could’ve asked to find.”

“Knock yourself out Priest” Cecil took his braid in his hands and began to untie it, letting his long hair fall free. From his bag, he pulled a comb made with black pearls and began to run it through his hair. Lance knew he should be looking at the books in front of him, but instead he was transfixed by him. 

_“Why is he here? For what reason is he helping me? He doesn’t have any reason to... And yet he doesn’t seem to mind one bit that I’ve pulled him off his goal path. I don’t...I don’t know if I can trust him. And yet I don’t see any reason he would have to deceive me.”_ Lance thought as he took the books in his hands, sitting crisscross on the ground to peruse them. He thought about all that had happened. How Cecil knew how to navigate this place, how he seemed to have just what they needed, such as the dungeon key. How he knew about this secretly guarded room. And just who was this _He_ Cecil kept talking about? If he was going to truly trust Cecil, he needed to know what his connection to this place was.  
The comb passed through Cecil’s hair like silk, but his eyes were darting around the room. From the shelf to desk, to the floor in front of them. Lance watched him.

“Hey Cecil.” Lance’s voice took on a seriousness that took Cecil’s attention to him. “How did you know this room was here?”

“...Lucky guess.” 

Lance knew that was a lie. 

“Where did you get that key from?” 

Cecil did not respond. Lance narrowed his eyes. 

“How do you know so much about this place?” 

Cecil took a deep breath, dropping the comb from his hair. He knew this was coming sooner or later. After all, Lance was much smarter than what meets the eye. He could no longer hide it from Lance or ignore the truth himself. 

“Alright...I have no reason to lie to you, Lance.” Cecil looked towards him, his voice free of swagger and confidence. “I lived in this castle, decades ago when Lord Domik still was alive. For over 200 years I was right by his side, day in and day out. He still whisked away anyone he desired and had a harem made up of beautiful concubines, but I was always his favorite.” Cecil’s hand had gone up to his neck, his hand pressed over the permanent bite mark that scarred his neck. “I was his prize that he took to the courts and to the galas. The one he showed off as if I was his crowned jewel. He never let anyone else touch me, though many wanted to take me for themselves. I was his, with his mark on my neck to prove it.” He had a distant look in his eye, staring at the desk empty of books. “But my duties were not just matters of pleasure. I was his scribe who came with him to Court, to meetings between allies and enemies. I did countless research for him in this very room, as he was an accomplished sorcerer, but he was lazy when it came to spellbooks.” A slight smile spread on his face as he dropped his hand from his neck, looking at Lance eye to eye now. “I left after Domik was killed, for when the other lords heard of his death, I knew they would descend on the castle to strip it of all its worth. Any servants who did not escape when they had the chance would be taken into their houses. While I consider these people fools, true freedom is not something everyone desires. This is why I became a warlock, so I had the strength to preserve my own freedom. I never want to belong to anyone else ever again.” Cecil spoke again with true vindication in his voice, his arms folded with his long hair spilling over his shoulder. “But I came back for good reason. I’m here to retrieve the bones of someone important to me. She doesn’t deserve to have her eternal rest in these catacombs.” He grinned at Lance, teasing just a bit but his eyes still dwelling. “Before you ask no, I never planned to bring her back with necromancy. That’s not a fate I would force onto her or anyone. I want to bring her back to where Domik took her from, the place she always wanted to return to.” 

Lance felt speechless. He was expecting to hear that Cecil was there to take information for another lord, such as the game was played. He wasn’t expecting to learn that Cecil had a deep and complicated past with this place. “I...I’m sorry Cecil. I wouldn’t have asked if I knew it would be so-” Lance wondered if Cecil missed his Lord, though that didn’t seem right to him. He could tell Cecil was still hiding things but decided best not to ask. He understood having a complicated relationship with the past, but it seemed Cecil had forged his path to the future.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Cecil smirked and walked over to Lance, kneeling on the ground next to him. “The past is dead, And I’m happy to let it stay that way. And before you think that I hold any sort of sentiment to that man.” Cecil leaned into his space, a hand coming up to cup his cheek, Lance feeling the brush of Cecil’s sharp nails against his skin. “I do not.” He said in a borderline whisper, making a chill shoot up Lance’s spine. 

Cecil was no stranger to using his charms and beauty to seduce his way into the hearts and beds of men. In fact, it was one of his past times, and it gave him an easy way to get a meal. But it was just part of the lifestyle Cecil was now indulging himself in. One of unhinged freedom, where he explored the world he had missed out on for centuries, making money and indulging any of his desires. There was no one to tell him what to do, and for an immortal half-elf, the 20 years he had been free was simply a blip in time for him, and he would live as free as he pleased. 

Lance felt as if his heart would burst from his chest as he looked into those crimson eyes. He wanted to lean up and meet his lips, but before he could even consider it, Cecil grinned and pulled away, slowly running his hand under Lance’s chin.

“If you want to get more field experience, I suggest you throw what you want to take into this.” Cecil turned heel and pulled a purple bag off of a wall and tossed it Lance’s way. “It's a bag of holding. It’ll carry everything you want without taking up any room. Help yourself” he winked.

Lance shook his head to clear the mass of thoughts stewing in his mind. He nodded slowly and began to quickly gather any of the books that peeked his interests, even grabbing stuff that he wasn't certain what it was, but sure as day, the bag carried it all without fail. He couldn’t help but laugh and smile with excitement, ready to truly get to work on them the moment they were out of danger. He knew he most likely wouldn't be coming back here, so He didn’t want to miss a single thing. He grabbed what he wasn't even sure were spell books, but he wanted them. 

Cecil watched how Lance ran around as if he was a child in a confectionary. It made him smile, knowing that this had been worth it. He turned back to the ornamental hanging mirror he had approached, nestled out of sight in an alcove. He began to braid his hair again, noticing about an inch’s worth of white had begun to overtake the silver. He took hold of it in one hand, and in the other, a small yet extremely sharp blade. It only took one cut to slice the snow-white hair from his silver locks. He pocketed the blade and continued his braid. 

“Cecil come check this out!” Lance’s voice called to him from the other side of the room.

  
“Oh what did you find Dwarf erotica?” Cecil replied with a chuckle, leaving the white strands on the floor of the library. 

\---

_“Your hair has grown so long, The black has almost completely faded.” The deep voice of his lord cooed, his ring adorned fingers running through his locks slowly, possessively. The two laid in a large quilted bed, all of the curtains shut leaving only the glow of white crystals to light the room._

_“I know my lord. Does it please you?” He replied with a certain confidence, he already knew the answer._

_“It does. Your white hair marks you as mine even more than my bite does.” It was like a halo signifying that only his Lord would be the one to touch him. The bite had changed him, but the hair claimed him. All that was left of his old appearance were a few strands of black hair that would surely be changed soon enough. “Afterall, you are my favorite. So fast thinking and skilled. I would not have made you my scribe if you were not. I can not wait to debut you in court, Cecil.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting is so hard but now that it's getting into the plot more I hope y'all like it! Again any feedback and commentary would make me so happy! Thanks for reading!
> 
> ps I edited to make their height difference bigger
> 
> I also commissioned bipirate for art of them in this chapter! Please check them out 
> 
> https://bipirate.tumblr.com/post/634075775886311424/bipirate-a-commission-for-gaycalculator-these


	3. Trust and Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the library, Lance and Cecil find themselves surrounded by enemies, forcing them to take an extremely alternative route. However, as they make their way, will their differences cause a rift? Especially when one of those differences include teeth, lots of teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey forgot to update after editing properly but here it is! Please leave me any and all feedback it's super appreciated! 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Graphic descriptions of blood and gore

Lance had finished sorting through the vast collection of books having taken ones he both needed and wanted on a more superficial level, such as comedic plays and ‘erotica’. After showing his extensive collection of finds to Cecil, the duo began to read through them together in the intimate crystal lit library. Cecil had been dramatically reading from one of the plays they had found resulting in Lance’s stomach hurting laughter, clutching his torso sprawled across the floor. It was a comedic adventure tale of a cocky yet cowardly Dragonborn hero named Drik who traipsed through the land offering autographs to anyone in reach. He was painfully stupid at times yet you couldn’t help but root for him, and he took great joy in slicing things in half. The scene they had read out was when Drik, in an attempt to be sneaky, gave himself a fake name, Krid.

“I am Krid!” Cecil remarked in an ostentatious voice. “I am not a hero!”  
Lance was still snickering 

“Drik we’re done with the stealth mission” He feigned a feminine voice that was supposed to belong to an elven Cleric woman named Rei. 

“I am Krid! This is my name! I like it!” Cecil replied, his overacting fitting perfectly for the character.   
The two of them let the last of their laughter ride out as they sat in the library. 

“Oh my gods…” Lance wiped some tears forming in his eyes. “Do you think we’ve dicked around long enough down here?”   
“How are you feeling?” Cecil asked, standing up and stretching his back, nearly forming an arch with his flexibility as he bent backward.   
“Much better” Lance nodded, putting the book back into the bag and standing himself “Energies all restored and I’m ready to go!” 

“Same here.” Cecil grinned and began to gather his things in preparation to leave.

Aside from certain spells such as Sacred Flame or Eldritch Blast, known as cantrips, every spellcaster only had a limited amount of energy they could devote to magic before they grew too fatigued or risked damage. For a Cleric such as Lance, their spells were fueled by divine energy and their own dedication to study, and depending on who they drew their power from, they had more options of spells that they could cast. Since Lance was a Cleric who drew his power from life force itself, he had the ability to heal and boost the stats of himself or his allies with certain spells. Some spells also required long stints of prayer and ritual to prepare as well. He had few offensive spells which is why he relied on his sword in battle more often than not. 

Cecil however was much different. Warlocks drew their energy from their own charisma, their spirit itself, and the arcane powers bestowed upon them by their patron. While they knew many spells, they could only cast a small number of them between rests, or they risked inflicting damage onto their own spirits from conjuring from such destructive forces. Their spells however became as strong as their caster as they culled experience and mastery. In addition to this, their spells were bolstered through the study of invocations, powers they gained through skill and research, making their spells and cantrips alike more powerful and effective. Clerics swore to serve their deities with piety and grace, while Warlocks sought to serve themselves with the power given exchange for something their Patrons desired. They were opposite sides of the same coin. 

“I’ll guide you to the entrance. I suggest waiting until day to return to Magnus. I’d hate to hear you got turned into a snack.” Cecil gathered his burned cloak, annoyed as it was rather high quality. _“After he leaves I’ll head to the tombs. Hopefully, from there the necklace will guide me to-”_

“What are you talking about?” Lance asked, sliding his breastplate over his head and fastening it with leather straps. “You think I’m just gonna leave you down here?” 

“You got what you came here for. What reason do you have to stay?” Cecil sounded distant as he took another look around the library, cloak clutched in his hands.

Lance felt a pang in his heart. He simply walked over to the vampire and leaned against the desk. “Can I see that?”

Cecil blinked but handed Lance the cloak. He was used to joining parties where the end goal was simply to make money by killing some beast or finding some artifact. Some of them treated him with a certain hostility on account of his vampirism, not that he could blame them. He was an outsider.

“Here you go” Lance handed the cloak back as it had a faint glow. Cecil took it and realized it was completely repaired.

“Spell of Mending?” Cecil asked with a small smile, taking the cloak back and tying it around.

“Yep. Consider that one of the first ways I’m choosing to thank you. Besides, you like having me protect you right?” He asked, pulling on his gloves

“You could say.” Cecil grinned. “But don’t think I’ll let you get off so easily with the win here.”

“Oh, it's a competition now?” Lance got up from where he was lounging

“It can be” Cecil chirped, always excited at the prospect of winning something. 

They left the ransacked library, Cecil not giving it a passing glance as they walked out. They made their way up the stairs again and opened the door that had been locked with the ruby key. Lance pulled it open and the two stepped into the hallway they had been before. Lance began to walk in the direction they had come before he felt Cecil grab his arm. 

“Lance before we go, can you cast Detect Evil and Good?” Cecil’s tone sounded serious as if he felt something was off. But now that he thought that, Lance felt something was wrong too. 

“Um sure but why? Didn’t we already make sure that way was safe as long as you sensed magic traps?” Lance was admittedly confused. Unless they did something like explore deeper into the cells or fell for the tricks of the hexed path, he didn’t think they were in any danger. 

“He was lazy but he was thorough. Even in death, those loyal to him probably made sure this place was bolted up tight so the aristocratic vultures wouldn’t steal what he had down here. We only made it that far because of my key. That must’ve been why the mimic was there, to stop unwanted guests from entering his library. However, if anyone got in, He probably made sure they’d have a hard time getting out.”

Lance nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he began to sense for auras of the undead. He marked Cecil, the vampiric glow of red not causing alarm. However, he felt something further down, just around the corner from the cells they had walked past. He felt a pitfall in his stomach. There were 5 creatures in total. Two skeletons wearing rusting armor, one with a sword the other with bow and arrows. There were two zombies however they felt bigger, stronger than the mummified leathered corpses they had fought earlier. And in the front leading them was...

“What the fuck is that” Lance’s eyes shot open. 

“What is it?” Cecil asked in a lowered voice

“G-Giant zombie eyeball? Strong. Very Strong.” Lance’s voice was nearly shaking, he hadn’t sensed something like this ever before. Cecil tensed up as well. 

“It sounds like a Beholder Zombie. No offense Lance darling but I don’t think you’re ready for that.” Cecil tried to sound calm but it was obvious he was nervous as well, his grip on Lance tightening a bit. “Follow me there’s a path that loops around if we go to the left and-” 

As they turned to run in the other direction, they saw the second row of cells all with the doors open. Coming out of them were four undead zombies crawling from the open doors.

“Lance walked backward.” Cecil began to do just that, keeping his grip on the cleric. “We could probably take these guys but-"

“Th-those other ones are getting closer too” Lance could sense them rounding the corner, the two separate hoards closing them in in a pincer attack. They had backed nearly all the way to the ruby locked door when the bigger hoard rounded the corner. Lance began to feel partially overwhelmed sensing so many energies around them, the only living in a tomb of the undead. At the front of the group was indeed a horrific creature. A floating monstrosity with grotesque tendrils sprouting from its head and one bloodshot eye with a wide split open mouth, teeth dripping with bloody saliva came towards them, leading the others behind it. Laying its gaze on the duo it stopped and allowed the other creatures to move forward, the undead reaching out and snarling at them following their only order of their master, to kill any intruders. 

“I know one other way to get out of here. We just have to hope this door holds” Cecil let go of Lance and moved behind him, grabbing the key but fumbling just a bit from nerves. He pressed the ruby to the lock and watched the glow begin to spread.

“Lance! Can you hold them back?”

“I can try!” Lance remembered one of his weapons fastened to his hips, the holy symbol of Enrasil of two overlapping golden suns. He had never properly used this, much less so in battle, but it should be able to stun all undead in 30 feet around him that could hear his prayer. “Cecil, cover your ears, and don’t look at me!” 

Cecil threw his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as tight as he could, waiting for the locks of the door to finish. 

“I am merciful, just as the light of Enrasil guides me!" and with that a bright and pure light emanated from the holy symbol, Lance standing firm as the undead in front of him screeched and came to a halt, trying to claw at their eyes from the radiant pain. “Cecil are you-” 

Lance turned and saw that Cecil got the door open and was holding it open, just slightly weak in the knees. Lance immediately backed into the stairwell of the library and Cecil slammed the door behind them. He shoved the ruby into the carving on the other side and locked it firmly. 

“Go down!” He shouted, gripping the key before starting a hastened descent. Cecil and Lance hurried down the stairs as they began to hear banging against the door. Cecil knew it would hold but the way they nearly fell down the stairs, the two of them screaming all the way made him doubt. They stumbled as they hit the bottom but Cecil grabbed Lance’s wrist and pulled him into the library as the banging grew louder. 

“I didn’t want to use this route but it’s all we have!” Cecil ran to a crystal fixture in the wall, pressing the ruby to the base causing another reaction. The wall began to open behind one of the rugs that hung from the wall. “Get in! It’ll dump us into another passageway and we can get back to the front room again.” 

The stone passage closed behind the two, the pathway wide enough to fit them but just barely, the two nearly pressed together where they stood. 

“Are you hurt?” Cecil asked, trying to look over Lance for any injuries.

“I’m fine! But did I hurt you at all? You didn’t get hit right?” It was hard for him to remember Cecil was truly undead, a full vampire. Afterall, his parents, the priests, it was always drilled into him to avoid the undead, especially the tricky and silver-tongued vampire. But he didn’t have such things to fear with Cecil. 

“No, I didn’t. Just follow me now. It’ll be a maze down here. This pathway connects all the different chambers, don’t make a wrong turn or you won’t like where you end up.” Cecil sounded nervous and took his hand. “Do you trust me?”  
“Of course” 

Cecil began to guide the pair through the narrow passages, Lance quickly realizing they were in a labyrinth. Cecil slowly took each turn and corner, as if he was slowly remembering the way. There were other noises coming through the distant turns, the crunching of bones and grinding metal. Lance could feel his heart in his throat. _Right, Left, Right_

Cecil followed his faint memories of this maze as best he could. The times he stood with his master as he and his allies watched their prisoner fight their way through the labyrinth, only being allowed to live when they reached the door to the front chamber. However, they rarely made it halfway through, cut down by the creatures that patrolled the chamber. He had learned the path decades ago but feared that _thing_ was still roaming around. 

“What’s down here Cecil?” Lance asked, wondering if this was truly safer than what was above. 

“Another monster, however down here we stand a chance. This maze was designed to trap anyone unlucky enough to be chosen as the banquet entertainment. It was… cruel.” Cecil got quiet as they came to an open hallway. He held up a hand to tell Lance to stop moving and they both froze still. They stayed against the wall and as they did, a heavy boned skeleton lumbered right past them, both of them hidden in the shadows. It was wearing rusted old armor and was covered in grime, but it didn’t see either of them. 

“It’s patrolling”

“Should we fight it?”

“No, if we make too much noise the others will come to this area. The best way to get through here is pure stealth. So let's hope we both get lucky.” 

“I don’t think I’ll have much of a problem” Lance gave him a confident nod. “We just have to follow through the openings in the walls and not get caught right?” 

“You got it priest. I’ll be right behind you.” Cecil grinned and moved to the side for Lance to go first. 

_“The first thing you need to remember about stealth is that you can’t hesitate. You must trust your instincts. The shadows belong to you in that moment.” His father stood beside him, a tall and skilled man who he thought the world of. It was his first lesson._

Lance took a running start and rolled into a somersault, making seemingly no noise despite his armor. He made it halfway through the next corridor and checked for any passing guards. There was a skeleton in the distance but not enough to readily be a threat. He looked back to Cecil and saw no one there. A moment later the skeleton lumbered by once again, passing slowly but again not seeing Lance.

 _“Where is he?”_ Lance suddenly felt worried. The next moment he saw a flash of black and silver comes from the middle of the path and stop inches from his face. Cecil was grinning at him.

“So how’d a cleric get so stealthy?” 

“Story for later. Where’d you vanish to?” Lance asked in hushed tones

“Incantation. Don’t you think disappearing into the shadows fits me?” Cecil vanished again and Lance felt a hand brush against his chin and his braid tickle his cheek before Cecil reappeared in front of him, looking back with a wink. “I like that you manage to keep this fun.”  
The two of them continued through the constantly shifting path as such, Cecil vanishing into the shadows and Lance using an almost uncanny speed and agility to dart from cover to cover. Only once were they spotted by a skeleton soldier but Cecil quickly disposed of it with a well aimed eldritch blast before they bolted ahead, unspotted. Lance peered around the corner and saw what looked to be the next chamber. 

“I think we’re almost out of here” Lance smiled as Cecil peered around him, his eyebrows narrowed. They crossed into the next chamber. There was a single path for them to take, walking straight through another arched door. 

“Well let’s go” Lance waltzed forward, but at that moment Cecil’s ears perked up, his eyes widening as he remembered what happened in this chamber, the place very few ever made it to.

“Lance stop!” Cecil called out to him trying to run forward and pull him back but Lance already had fallen into the trap. 

“Wh-” The walls around the chamber raised around them, cutting Cecil off from Lance entirely. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he realized he was surrounded by walls in a giant chamber. Then, lumbering out of the surrounding darkness came the sound of dragging chains and thundering footsteps came a giant with rotting flesh and a morningstar slung over its shoulder. Its yellow decaying eyes landed on Lance and roared, spit flying from it’s tusked mouth and charging forward. 

“Zombie ogres? That’s a thing?” Lance shouted and drew his sword and immediately felt terrified. The morningstar came down on him and he jumped out of the way, the thud echoing in the walled chamber. 

“Lance! Hold on as long as you can! I’ll find a way over there but don’t let him hit you!” he heard Cecil’s voice faintly from the other side of the barricade. 

“I’m not planning on it!” Lance called back, knowing he had to rely on Cecil, he had to trust him. 

“GRWAA” The ogre slowly lifted it’s weapon and began to turn to attack Lance again, but was met with a slash across the chest from the silver bladed sword Lance held in hand. It snarled in pain but brought the club down again nearly atop Lance’s head who barely rolled out of the way. Lance stood quickly, coughing from the dust that had kicked up that was now in his eyes. He charged a sacred flame in his hand, but due to his clouded vision, it missed the creature entirely. 

“Damn it” Lance tried to rub the dirt from his eyes but as he did, he was blindsided by a swing of the morning star, hitting his armored body with full force and sending him flying. It hurt, it hurt badly, but Lance still returned to his feet, feeling the pain of broken ribs in his chest. He coughed again and blood dribbled from his chin. He knew that hit had caused too much damage for comfort, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. 

“Nice hit, big guy” He gripped the hilt tight and surged forward, the monster too slow to react to stop the blade piercing his wrist which Lance dragged up the forearm causing a gush of blood to spray forth. He turned around and thrust his sword into its side. Lance grinned from the lucky shot and while the Ogre moaned in pain, it didn’t cease its movements. Instead, it turned with such force that it ripped Lance’s grip from the hilt of the sword that was still embedded in its gut which left Lance unarmed and unbalanced. The ogre retaliated with a fist to Lance’s gut which knocked him back towards the wall, dragging his hands on the ground to stop him from making full impact. Lance pushed himself off his back and got to his knees before coughing again, more warm blood dribbling from his mouth. Lance’s piercing green eyes looked up definitely at the undead thing and knew that if he took another hit...then his adventure would end there. He tried to force his body into action but was in too much pain. He could think of nothing other than to screw his eyes shut and pray. The undead ogre brought his morningstar down again upon where Lance knelt. 

Cecil looked up the wall that had just shot up in front of him, his eyes darting around looking for some way to get to the other side, but it was too high to reach with mere acrobatics. He could hear Lance from the other side of the wall; the deep roar of that monster, the echoing boom of the morningstar’s attacks hitting the ground, the crash of metal against armor. Cecil knew Lance stood little to no chance against such a strong beast without him, but he had let him run forward like an idiot. 

_“If he dies it's my fault!”_ Cecil cursed himself, taking a few steps back, about to run and see if there were any alternative entrances as the barricade had no trick to open it up. However, he quickly noticed there was a thin frame of light between the ceiling and rock barricade, a slit for ventilation. It looked like it would have been just big enough for him to get through if he was lucky. But it was all he had. Cecil bared his teeth and took a running start at the wall. A glow surged in his eyes and as he jumped, he clung to the wall where his feet landed. He dashed up the wall as if it was solid ground, going for the window of light above him. Spider Climb was a spell of transmutation where one could climb and walk on any surface as if it was common earth. Cecil only used it for recon that required great stealth as it took a lot of his strength to maintain, and left him with less energy to attack with. Because of this, he relied on his fade to shadows invocation and a roll of the dice to get through places like the labyrinth. However, this was one of the times he didn’t hesitate to use it. 

Cecil threw himself through the window in one quick motion, attack charged and ready to enter the fray. 

The purple glow of an Eldritch Blast blindsided the ogre with a direct hit to its head, leaving a searing mark across its face. It roared in pain and turned its attention away from the heavily injured paladin. Lance opened his eyes hesitantly and saw Cecil standing horizontally on the opposite wall, hand’s outstretched from the blast he just sent the Ogre’s way. 

“Never thought I’d have to see you again ugly!” Cecil taunted from where he stood on the wall, knowing he had to keep the zombie away from Lance. He watched the Ogre charge towards him, morningstar raised and ready to strike. Cecil dropped from where he hung on the wall and darted to the right, unimpeded by the aftershocks caused by the giant club hitting the wall. From a new vantage point, He charged Eldritch Blast and aimed for the ogre’s stomach. The two beams surged forward and hit their mark, making the Ogre stumble back and growl in pain where another attack burned its grey flesh. 

Lance watched Cecil run across the cylindrical wall like it was nothing, keeping the Ogre occupied with a smirk across his face. The ogre charged Cecil again and the vampire did a small series of backflips across the wall, his heels clicking with every move to dodge the next swing from the morningstar. Cecil took a deep breath and from his lips, he blew a chilled mist towards the ogre. A shield of frost formed on the ogre’s torso, impeding it’s movements even further.   
“Lance! Are you alright?” Cecil called to the Cleric as he could smell the scent of blood in the air.

“Never better,” Lance weakly called back, his hand pressing against his side.   
“I’ll be there in a second just don’t-” The morningstar came down on the wall Cecil clung to, barely missing him but this time, having been caught off guard, the shockwaves knocked him off balance and caused him to fall down. Only down was a 20-foot drop. Cecil hit the ground with a thud and rocks tumbled down on him. The ogre took the opportunity to slam its weight down on Cecil’s chest, forcing a pained yell from the vampire as the morningstar was raised again. Cecil, not being able to move from the crushing pin it seemed, dug his nails into the monster’s foot in an attempt to make the oaf fall back in pain. however, it only seemed to agitate it. “Fuck me.” 

Lance watched in fear, forcing himself to his knees, refusing to let Cecil be crushed by weight or weapon. He gathered his strength enough to cast a second blast of his sacred flame. The flame shot forward into the Ogre’s back, the radiant magic searing the undead’s flesh. The Ogre’s foot lifted from the small vampire but the heat of the flame started to melt the ice. The Ogre then turned to the wounded cleric, setting its sights once again. All Lance could do as the Ogre charged, dust kicking up behind him, was sigh and prepare himself for impact. However, the black figure had risen to his feet. 

“That self-sacrificing...Lance!” Cecil outstretched his hand, ignoring the pain riddling his body. In an instant shadows started to weave together, twisting and binding with a heavy black glow that formed in Cecil’s palm. 

The Ogre had Lance cornered once again. The half-elf couldn’t see past the ogre’s massive form and his sword hilt still stuck out of the creature’s side as if it was mocking him. All he could do was use the last of his energy to cast a simple protection spell. 

“Shield of Faith…” He breathed out, a veil of holy energy surrounding him. He wondered if it would hold another attack, but it was too late to hope as another swing came down upon him. 

“Lance I’m going to ask you to please not bleed out anymore” Cecil’s voice rang clear and deep as a shadow-like blade appeared in Lance’s sight. It was a gorgeous hilt that laid in Cecil’s hand and dripping from the black blade was rich ogre blood. Beside them laid a severed hand. 

“Well I wasn’t expecting that” 

“GRAAAAA” The ogre recoiled, still clutching the morningstar in its remaining hand. It was looking worse with every one of Cecil’s attacks. 

“Lance let me handle this. If you die here I won’t forgive you.” Cecil was clearly trying to tease, but his voice sounded serious and very tired. Lance knew that this… Blade of Shadows must have taken much more of his energy to producing. Cecil started towards the Ogre again, his feet making contact with the wall allowing him to ascend with the use of Spider Crawl. The Ogre was still stumbling around in pain as Cecil launched himself off at an angle allowing him to dig his shadow blade into the shoulder of the ogre and drag downward, using the momentum to create a deep wound in the monster’s back resulting in even more blood spraying forth. Cecil landed on his feet and proceeded to dodge a wild frenzied attack by the ogre that wildly swung its weapon about. Cecil would slice and jab wherever he saw an opening, at times barely missing another strike. He rolled to the side and as the ogre swung down, one hand gripped the hilt and the other grabbed the blade as the shadows wouldn’t hurt its master. Cecil knew there was nowhere to run, and seeing as this was the last of his spellcasting energy, he pinned his hopes on the strength of the shadows overpowering the creature that was on its last legs. If he could force the oaf’s defenses down for a moment he could plunge the blade into its stomach. The steel of the morningstar met the woven shadows of Cecil’s blade and-

Lance watched as the blade shattered in Cecil’s hands. The weapon came down to where Cecil was kneeling and from what Lance could see, he wasn’t able to dodge. A final cloud of dust filled the now crumbling arena, stone falling from the walls around them. Lance wanted to call out to his companion but he found he lacked the strength. Despite this, when he saw that his sword had fallen loose from the rotting flesh not too far from him, Lance began to crawl towards it. When he had wrapped his hands around the hilt he looked up and saw the heavily wounded Ogre in front of him. Lance forced himself to his feet, gripping his blade. His energy had been expended and for someone as fragile as Cecil… that must have been a finishing blow. But he didn’t want to think about that. 

“I won’t… I won’t let you…” Lance struggled to take his fighting stance but he remained defiant. “I won’t let you win... ARGH-” 

Lance had begun to swing. But then in an instant, a black and silver figure had launched itself at the Ogre’s neck following a scream of exertion. Teeth latched onto the jugular, blood spurting out from the zombie’s throat. Clawed fingers grabbed at its hideous face, pressing so hard that puncture wounds formed and the Ogre screamed out in unholy agony. It fell backward but the thing attacking it remained latched on before pulling back to rip a chunk of flesh from the jugular before it bit down again with a loud crunch on firm bones. The claws remained firmly embedded in the ogre’s face, the glow of dark energy being siphoned from its body through the attack as if it was a spell. The blood leaked across the floor from the body, flooding as if it was water from a burst pipe. A second chunk of the Ogre’s throat was ripped off and it stopped moving altogether. The dust was clearing now and Lance realized what he was looking at. 

Cecil, his braid undone and blood covering his clothes, stood above the ogre’s unmoving corpse. His claws were marred with blood and his fangs were barred. But they were not the simply pointed fangs that flashed when Cecil grinned. All his teeth were now all in a flesh-ripping deadly point. Two large chunks had been ripped from the Ogre’s throat as if it had been done by a wild animal attacking its prey. Blood was dripping from Cecil’s lips, staining his pale skin. It was in his hair as well, his clothes, and dripping from his sharp nails. His red eyes glowed as he breathed heavily. His tongue licked the blood from his bottom lip slowly, a long pointed tongue that lapped the blood from his chin and fingers after bringing them to his lips, savoring the warm blood. 

He was a vampire. The fact that was so easy to forget was emblazoned in front of Lance right there as he felt blood that wasn’t his on his cheek. Near him laid the chunks of bone and cartilage that had been viciously ripped from the zombie’s throat, still oozing blood. Lance’s heart was pounding violently. He remembered how in the temple he occasionally saw the bodies of vampiric victims, their necks ripped to near decapitation at times. He remembered the stories his parents told him of horrific creatures that had flesh-tearing teeth and sharp claws and colorless skin. The warnings of adventures, their stories of slaying a bloodthirsty creature that had caused the death of a village. Cecil was one of them. He had those teeth that could tear flesh and bone. Lance had been alone with him all this time… if Cecil had found it fit he could have- 

“Lance are you-”

“Stay back.” 

Lance’s mind came back to reality, ending the fear-driven state of what they had just gone through, what he had just witnessed. His eyes laid on Cecil’s face, as pale and lovely as ever. His teeth were normal now, a matching set of top and bottom fangs that showed when he smiled. His hair was still stained with blood but had been pulled back into a controlled bun rather than the entangled mess it had just been. His eyes were no longer aglow with rage. But when Lance looked at them, he saw what looked like fear. That’s when Lance realized he was holding his silver blade to Cecil’s chest, the tip nearly inches from his body. 

_“What am I doing?! He-He just saved my life why am I-”_

_“He could attack me any second… he’s a creature, an undead like the rest of them!”_

_“No! No he isn’t! He’s my friend!”_

_“He’s a monster!”_

Lance’s hand was shaking. Every inch of him wanted to drop the sword there, to drop the point of the silver blade away from his ally, his companion who had just saved his life. He trusted Cecil...and Cecil trusted him. But the voices of his past rang in his head, reminding him that Cecil was a vampire, a creature born of the night. But it was ridiculous to think of Cecil like that. Yes, he was frightened by the raw gruesome display that had just happened before him. But Cecil-

“Cecil I-” Lance started softly, having dropped the sword as he kept his gaze with that horrified look.

“T-Take this…” Was all Cecil said as he placed a vile on the ground and rolled it to Lance, taking a few steps back cautiously. 

Lance took it in hand and realized it was a health potion. He removed the plug and quickly downed the red liquid, feeling the healing effects soothe his broken bones. While he was still tired, he was no longer clinging to life, then he rose to his feet, taking his sword with him. He looked over to Cecil who was gathering their bags that had been dropped in the battle. 

He felt horrible. He looked to the sword in his hand and quickly resheathed it. It felt as if he never wanted to look at the blade again. He had pointed it at Cecil as if he was another undead thing that needed to be killed. He felt sick. 

“Cecil I-” He started again, hoping he knew how to apologize for such a horrific act.  
“Let's get to the front room. From there you’ll be able to go back to Magnus.” Cecil’s voice had none of the sly, teasing charms that normally laced his accented voice He didn’t even give Lance a passing glance as he dropped his bag at his feet, the bag of holding Cecil had helped, no, given him. “If you don’t mind...can you walk ahead of me?”

Lance hated this silence between them as they ascended the stairs to the dungeon. Cecil hadn’t said a word to him as they left the labyrinth, the exit coming out of the center of one of the seals they had walked over in the front entrance of the catacombs. Lance was searching for every word he knew, trying to find the right ones to say. 

But how did one apologize for this? 

“Lance. Do you want to know why I became what I am?” Cecil’s voice chimed for the first time in what felt like hours.   
“Do you mean a vampire?” He replied. 

“I did it for freedom,” Cecil said before glancing back to Lance, his crimson eyes void of light. “Would you believe I was a priest all those years ago?” 

-

_“You’re a vampire.”_

_“Indeed I am.”_

_“...If you leave this sanctuary now I won’t tell anyone you were here.”_

_“Come now, you wouldn’t have me believe you honestly think of this as a sanctuary.”_

_“What makes you say that?”_ _  
__“I can see it in your eyes. You’re far too smart for this life. Do you honestly believe in the actions and words taught by these temples?”_

_“...no I don’t. So many- no all of them are just hypocrites. They don’t care about the people of this town or of Magnus. They only want to serve themselves… but I can’t say I’m any better.”_

_“What if I could help you, Cecil?”_

_-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any comments and questions are super appreciated! I'm updating this twice a week now!


	4. Distant lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While taking their first long rest and turning the throne room into a campground, Cecil and Lance find themselves able to enjoy some peace and quiet. However even as they grow closer, the past still latches on, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationships and manipulation

“You were?” Lance’s voice stayed soft with shock. He didn’t know why Cecil was bringing this up now but he was going to listen.

“I was raised as one. I never knew my parents. They got killed when I was a toddler apparently. I was raised as one of the orphaned children in one of the temples of the divine. I remember the priest who took me in was kind, if not a bit of a cheeky bastard. He let me read all I wanted, anything I could get my hands on. But of course, the rest of them didn’t like that.” Cecil sighed and flipped his hair back. “The temples were different back then, they had way more power than they do now. Temples and the high priests were as powerful as governors since the King at the time would trust the protection of towns and regions to them. And of course, they loved to abuse it. I won’t deny that much has changed since those days. But then again, indoctrinating children is a hard habit to break. I was moved to another temple, away from the man who had raised me, the one who indulged my curiosities. I was a golden student when I was a kid, one who had real promise if I just listened to the gods.” Cecil chuckled when he said this as if he was remembering a joke. 

Despite being a Cleric, Lance couldn’t relate to a word Cecil had said. He had grown up learning how to live from not only his parents but everyone who lived in their caravan. He had seen half of Magnus by the time he was 10 years old, and he had seen the other half by the time he left. The temple of Enrasil he lived and trained at for months was warm and vibrant, but he didn’t think priests made for good parents even then. Time and time again he played with the groups of children running around in acolyte clothing, playing ball in the statue gardens, but they were the same kids studying scrolls and scriptures that made Lance’s head spin. It was sad to see as if they had never known anything else.

“I was a priest by the time I was 20. I didn’t know I had any other options. They acted as if I was a natural fit and shipped me off to wherever they felt like. That’s when I began to realize the truth. I watched my elders abuse their power every day, from taking money as donations to fuel their desires at the brothels and their love of drink. More than once I watched men beaten in the streets for speaking out against their iron grip on the towns they were in. It reinforced all the doubts that had formed in my mind from reading as a child. Even if the gods are true, those who claimed to serve them sure as hell weren’t. I hid my beliefs and tried to do what good I could. Any accused harlot I let go free, anyone with the guts to speak their mind I simply let be. And well,” Cecil laughed again, vocally this time. “They didn’t like that. I got reprimanded, slapped, and beaten by my ‘elders’ for my ‘lack of respect’. They stripped me of all my privileges, one by one until all I could do was council people and bestow blessings. I hated it. I hated every second of it. So I decided to take bribes, to gamble, to buy whatever I wanted even if it was just a sweet roll. It was the only freedom I had. But when they found out...they took it all from me too.” Cecil had slowed his walk as he said this, almost coming to a stop. But he continued upward after a moment. 

“That’s how I found myself in the temple that night. The new trainees decided it would be funny to lock the pretty boy up for the night, see what drifters wandered in. I wanted to run. I wanted to run so badly but… I had no skills, no money, nothing. I had already smashed a statue of Valus when I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and he was there, soaking wet and grander than anyone I had ever seen.” 

-  
 _“Hello, I’m passing through but it seems I’ve been caught in a storm. Would you mind letting me in until it passes?”_

_“Of course sir, Come on in.”_

-

“We talked for what seemed like hours because finally someone who would listen to me! I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to, to be enthralled. I was attracted to him in every way, and he knew it well. Even after I figured out I was talking to a vampire, he still saw right through me.” 

_-_

_“You can help me?”_

_“You want to be free of this life right? You want someone to respect you for what you truly are, who you truly are. I can make that happen.”_

_The vampire lord stood tall above the small priest, a half-elf with crystal blue eyes and shoulder-length black hair. His hand, decorated with rings and a series of three claw-like rings came up to cup the priest’s cheek, thumb pressing against his soft lips. The priest felt himself hanging onto every word that was said, every praise this creature of the night heaped upon him. His heart was pounding as he felt a blush creep across his face, the same one he got whenever the adventurers that passed through town asked for blessings. It didn’t take much to make the virgin priest shiver in anticipation. The vampire’s hand moved to stroke his hair._

_“If you come with me, I’ll give you everything you ask. You’ll be one of the members of my clan, a clan with power. You’ll get whatever your little heart desires, and I’ll protect you from whatever forces come your way. I’ve watched you for a reason, Cecil, your talents, they go unappreciated, unnoticed. And if you wish to learn more about the dark arts of the arcana” He knew the priest’s dirty little secret, his long-standing love of the arcana. How he read pages and pages of leatherbound books containing spells and summoning rituals improper for a priest to engage with. “Oh how happy I’d be to show you” A purple flame appeared at his fingertip as he said this, a hand that snaked around the priest’s waist pulled him closer._

_“What do I have to do?” The priest asked breathlessly, eyes transfixed on the purple flame and the crimson eyes of his vampiric stranger._

_“Give yourself to me. Become one with my power.” His fangs flashed sharp. “Be marked with my bite.”_

_The priest undid his robe, his milk white neck exposed in the temple’s light. A moment later, fangs punctured his skin._

-

“I pledged my body and soul to him that night. When he bit into my neck, I let him take all he wanted, and so he did. He offered me freedom from the temples, freedom to all I wanted, freedom of power in the land of Aetroth. And he did follow through. Even if I had known then what I know now… I don’t know if I would have chosen differently.” They were almost to the top of the stairs. “I have my freedom now. And I intend to keep it that way. Vampirism is a part of me now, I would not trade it easily even if I could.” The floor mural opened back up above, the lack of light above showing true night had fallen on Aetroth. When they walked out, Cecil stood in the middle of the abandoned throne room of his former master. He stood with his back facing Lance. 

“If you still think I’m some evil creature then end me now Lance. I’m still somewhat injured, one well-placed stab should do it. Then you can be on your-” 

There was a clattering to the floor Cecil realized he had been pulled into a true embrace by the Cleric who had left his holy sword on the floor feet away. 

“Don’t finish that sentence, Cecil. Please don’t” Cecil forgot the last time he was embraced so warmly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I drew my sword on you. You- You're my friend. I’m sorry I made you think I thought otherwise.” 

Cecil wasn’t expecting a reaction like that, but gently, he hugged him back.

“I’m not going to abandon you here. You did everything just now for me. The least I can do is make sure you make it out in one piece.”

“Are you sure that’s not my job?” Cecil retorted, his smug little grin returning to his face. “Did that potion heal those broken bones of yours?” Cecil asked, a nail pressed against Lance’s chest plate.

Lance found himself laughing again, his hands still around Cecil’s small waist. When he realized they were still pressed together, well he didn’t exactly want to pull away.  
“Y-yeah it did! H-here let me heal you up” He cupped Cecil’s cheek again, but then realized nothing could happen. “Oh. I guess I’m out of energy.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“Don’t worry darling. That zombie blood tastes like shit but it does its job” Cecil grinned and turned heel from Lance. He pulled his hair free from the bun. “We both need to rest”

“Should we set up ‘camp’ here?” Lance asked, gathering the rest of their stuff, though he didn’t know if he was super keen to be sleeping on top of a tomb of the undead. 

“I don’t see why not, but I’m going to find somewhere where there’s still running water.” Cecil chimed, pulling a bundle of clothes from his bag, the blood still soaking his silver locks. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Hey, Ceece? You weren’t- You wouldn’t have actually let me hurt you right?” Lance asked, picking his sword back up and looking at the vampire.

“Not a chance in hell.” Cecil winked. “I just trusted you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Good.” Lance nodded and grinned confidently back at him “I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” 

Lance fell into a natural rhythm as he set up camp around them. He used a tinderbox to set aflame some wood scattered throughout the ruins creating a warm fire. He stripped his armor and pulled off his linen shirt to soak it with water out of the waterskin he carried and hung it by the fire to dry. He then poured some water onto a cloth he used to clean the dirt and blood from his face and parts of his chest and shoulders. He poured out more of the waterskin onto his hair, soaking his fluffy brown hair that had grown to the base of his neck. He ran his fingers through it and tousled it to shake out the dirt and water. The water running down his chest and back felt more refreshing than anything he’d felt all day. While this was the first time he had set up camp inside an abandoned castle, camping out like this was second nature to him. In fact, it gave him a sense of comfort, nostalgia.  
“I wonder where Cecil went” He wondered aloud as he tried to roll out his sore muscles. He was still bruised and his armor was obviously dented, something he would fix later. He looked through his ration packs of dehydrated fruits, bread, and cheese as well as a plentiful bundle of beef jerky he had bought from the butcher in the last town he stopped in. While he loved the idea of a hot meal after almost dying, he wasn’t one to complain. Though he did long for the stew his mother would make after Lance returned from a successful forage as a child. He bit into a dried date and tasted its remaining sweetness on his tongue. He laid the cheese and meat atop a slice of bread, the meal tasting mostly of salt but it filled his belly. After taking a bite he laid down on his bedroll, his eyes closing for a moment of rest. 

“Well aren’t you Mr. Efficient” Cecil’s voice chirped above Lance which made the half-elf open his eyes. Lance sat upright and saw his companion had returned to their base camp. Cecil’s hair was down, long wavy hair draped over his shoulder as he combed it. His tight lacy, high-end clothing had been replaced with a loose silk tunic that slipped off his shoulder due to its low neckline, exposing his thin frame yet again. His pale skin contrasted against the black fabric which was void of the jewelry and accessories of his normal clothing. He also wore a loose pair of what looked like silk pants. He looked gorgeous.

“You look comfortable” Lance looked him up and down, giving a slight chuckle. “Do you always bring a change of clothes everywhere?”

“Of course I do. I spend good money on them after all and I’m not sleeping in leather pants” Cecil replied as if it was common sense, turning his attention to Lance, looking him up and down with a grin. “Didn’t know you were hiding all that under your armor” Cecil relished the blush that spread across Lance’s cheeks at his little tease. But he wasn’t lying. Lance had a small collection of scars across his muscular chest and abs. His tanned brown skin was dusted with freckles like the ones on his cheeks and his arms, well Cecil had a special weakness for nice arms. “Is that a tattoo?” Cecil asked, noticing a snake-like band tattoo that wrapped around his bicep printed with blue ink. 

“Oh um yeah it is” Lance almost instinctively covered it with his free hand before realizing it was useless as Cecil had already seen it. 

“Feeling better?” Cecil stood and moved closer to him, casually sitting right next to Lance on his bedroll, their knees touching. 

“I am! A few minutes of shut-eye and some food did me good.” Lance started to feel flustered with Cecil in such close proximity to him. “H-have you eaten? I have plenty of rations with me” 

“You’re sweet but remember I don't eat” Cecil flashed his fangs in a grin as he pulled what looked like a flask from his pocket. “How do you think I keep myself so petite?” Cecil took a drink from whatever was in the flask. “Though I do love sinking my teeth into a raw steak from time to time.”

“Do you normally drink animal blood?” Lance wondered, hoping he wasn’t coming off as rude as his eyes lingered on the vampire’s exposed skin. 

“Mostly yes.” Cecil brought the flask to his lips again “It's not as filling as the blood of mortals but it works plenty well. Undead blood tastes awful like stale wine, but I’ve learned to choke it down.” 

“Blood has a taste?” Lance asked curiously, genuinely curious after watching the display in the basement. He figured the more he learned, the more he would move beyond his own misconceptions.  
“Mmhm. Red meat tastes the best out of animals. I rarely drink from mortals however it’s not exactly hard to find people who like being bitten.” Cecil’s gaze flashed to Lance with a mischievous grin. Lance looked away, his mind immediately going down the gutter, wondering what it would be like to feel fangs prick his neck… 

“S-So what are you drinking now?” Lance stuttered, not wanting to show how flustered he was, and failing.  
“Wine. Alcohol is one of the things I can still enjoy. And I enjoy it often. Sometimes I’ll mix it with blood, but this is plain if you’d like to partake” Cecil held the flask towards Lance.

Lance took the flask in hand and took a long drink from it. The wine tasted refreshing against his tongue and he let out a satisfying sigh after pulling the flask from his lips. 

“Okay, that was good.” Lance sighed and leaned back a bit. “That’s some high-quality wine.” 

“Actually wait, that did have blood in it.”

“WHAT” 

“I’m kidding. I only put blood in the cheap stuff.” Cecil started to laugh loudly, which made a somewhat horrified Lance relax and begin to laugh as well, taking another drink. 

The two of them shared the flask until it was empty, Lance clearly feeling the effects more than Cecil did. They found themselves laughing over stupid stories, the time Cecil was stuck fighting rats in a sewer in Shorehaven, the time Lance was chased by a bridge troll, though Lance noticed most of Cecil’s stories only took place in the last 20 years. The whole time they seemed to grow closer, Lance’s heart beating quicker when he felt Cecil’s nails across his skin. He still couldn’t believe how beautiful he was, much less the fact Cecil seemed to be..drawn to him as well. 

“So, what did you do before you started the Cleric thing?” Cecil asked, his finger running over Lance’s tattoo. “Farmboy who heard the word of god? Runaway prince?” 

Lance laughed softly. “No, no, nothing like that.” he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I grew up in a traveling caravan. We went all over Magnus, Shorehaven, even crossing into Kagroth and Grovanus. We traded clothes, jewelry, wove baskets, and clothing, just living off the land around us. I spent most of my childhood by my mother’s side. My mother was a kind, beautiful elven woman. She told me stories about all the 8 Kingdoms, taught me everything from healing potions to survival skills, everyone told me I was her spitting image. I had a lot of siblings but she called me her treasure.” He smiled at the memories of her.

“What about your father?” 

“Well, he was a skilled leader. Everyone respected him, he could stop a fight with a few simple words. He loved me of course, and I loved him. I looked up to him. I had plenty of siblings to look up to too, like my oldest brother. Gods I wanted to be like him so badly.” Lance smiled wistfully and looked off as if into the past. “But…But things weren’t what I thought they were.” Lance grew quiet and almost instinctively laid down. However, instead of his head laying on his pillow he laid his head down on Cecil’s lap, not thinking twice about it. He felt nails run through his hair gently, it relaxed him. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to Lance” Cecil’s voice was calm and gentle. 

“No it’s alright, I’m just tired” Lance was comfortable like this and let out another sigh. “My mother was very protective of me. I saw how members of the caravan would come back bloody, sometimes injured, but mostly celebrating their hauls from the night. I asked my mother where they had been, she said they were hunting. I believed her. My father gave me my first dagger when I was 12. If I’m being honest I was never very good with them it seemed, but it was tradition and I was eager to prove myself. You asked how I was so stealthy right?” Lance chuckled softly. “I wanted to make him proud more than anything. Gods I hit my face falling off trees so many times. I sparred with almost every warrior in our caravan, they knocked me to my ass again and again until I got it. I could pickpocket anyone I chose, whatever I swiped I got to keep.” He reminisced, his eyes closed as visions of his childhood flashed in his mind. 

“So you were raised to be a thief.” Cecil realized where he was going. 

“Yeah, I was. I got this tattoo when I was 15, the mark of the Lazuli Serpents, my clan. I thought it was one of the best days of my life. But that's when I started to go on missions and… things changed.” 

“Lance, why don’t you get some rest?” Cecil continued to run his hand through his hair. “You need to restore your energy.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Lance felt his eyes grow tired and close. “I’ll just rest my eyes a bit.” 

-

 _A group of soldiers surrounded a cart of gold and jewels as they passed through the dense trees of the Jade Forest. Then in an instant, dark figures dropped from the trees above. Caught completely off guard, the soldiers were unable to quickly retaliate. Throats were slit with a single slice. A well-aimed blade to the armor's weak point made them drop to their knees. The riches were stuffed into bag after bag as the soldiers called out to fight back, but one by one they fell. The_ _thieves didn’t leave a single soldier standing, their bodies lying in the road, looted of their valuables, and left for the beasts of the woods._

 _When the thieves returned to camp they were met with cheers and congratulations. Their leader clapped a hand over the shoulder of his youngest son._ _  
__“I’m proud of you. You did everything I taught you perfectly. Your blade has drawn blood of its own now.”_ _  
__“Th-thank you father…”_

_“Is something wrong Lance?”_

_“N-no… not at all. I’m just tired.”_

_He closed the flaps to his tent and pulled the mask from his face. He had held it together until now but as soon as he was alone he dropped to his knees and started to hack. His hands were covered in blood, gripping the earth beneath him as he began to vomit. The look of those men’s eyes as he stabbed his blade into their body, their gurgled screams, and the blood that spewed forth. It was the haunting shrieks that tore through his mind. Every mission was like this. Whether it was killing soldiers or killing bandits, it made him feel sick. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to kill people anymore, even if according to their thieves code, it was a risk they had accepted. He had always admired the stories of Magnus’ heroes, the ones who slew monsters and wicked beings, saving people out of the true goodness of their hearts. But what other option did he have? This was what he was raised to do. And it would happen again and again...until he grew numb to it._

_It seemed his mother only looked at him with sadness now._

_-_

Cecil didn’t need to sleep. His body no longer required it. However as he laid next to Lance’s warm body, he found it hard not to feel tired as well. As he laid next to the Cleric, he couldn’t help but watch him. He had plenty of fun teasing Lance, seeing him become flustered and stutter to find his next words. But Lance was more than just eye candy. He was sweet, reliable, and Cecil knew he could trust him. He wasn’t going to deny he liked him. He found himself in the gaze and arms of men wherever he went, whoever he desired. It was an exchange of profit or pleasure, though at times his motivations disgusted even Cecil. Even if he was loath to admit it, many of his trysts came from his own self-destructive tendencies, partners that were indifferent to his comfort, void of care or respect for the vampire. Most of the time the men would leave him in pain, and not entirely in the way he liked. But some days it was the only way he could feel normal, even if he was disgusted with the aftermath. The only line he refused to let them cross was to let them believe they owned him in any way. He felt could never settle down with one person; a quiet, mundane life was out of the question for him. He wouldn't ask someone to put up with him in that way. He felt like he didn’t deserve some who cared, after all, who would want someone so… 

The castle walls around them seemed to constrict around him. Cecil sighed as he tried to put the thought out of his head. This place...it was getting to him, just a bit.

Looking down at Lance, he wondered if that bond would continue beyond their adventure here. If Lance was one to...put up with him. They were on two drastically different paths, after all, a cleric and a warlock. 

But Lance wasn’t just a sweet, simple, noble Cleric. Cecil knew that much. After all, one didn’t leave a thieves caravan on a whim without some sacrifice. He wondered what that sacrifice was. He ran his finger across Lance’s tattoo once again. 

“I…I’m sorry” Lance suddenly began to stir where he lay, softly talking in his sleep. “I didn’t mean...I didn’t want-” He started to turn, clenching his fist and clearly stressed.

“Lance?” Cecil tried to shake him awake, wondering what was happening.

“S-stop-” He began to turn even more violently, sweat beading on his face and body.

“Lance, wake up.” Cecil began to shake him more firmly but it seemed nothing was working. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you!” Lance lurched awake and Cecil pulled away just as fast as to not get hit. He was breathing heavy, sweat running down his forehead, his eyes wide and haunted. He slowly came around, pressing his hand against his eyes to counter the pounding pain behind his eyes. “ _It happened again.”_

“Lance, just breathe,” Cecil said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Nightmare?”

“S-sometimes I don’t sleep so well.” Lance tried to laugh it off but tapered off with a groan.

  
“Here,” Cecil pressed his waterskin into Lance’s hand to which the half-elf quickly chugged from, water dripping down his face after he pulled it away. “Don’t worry, I understand how this shit feels.” 

“Thanks…” Lance shook his head some and decided he didn’t feel like falling back asleep. “I think that's enough rest for me for now though.” he laughed halfheartedly. 

“Only if you’re certain.” Cecil sounded a bit suspicious, but he didn’t say anything as Lance got to his feet, seemingly brushing off what had just happened.

“Yeah! Don’t worry I’m fine. How long was I out anyway?” Lance did sound like he was re-energized.

“About 4 hours. But if you’re so full of energy how do you suggest we pass the time until Enrasil says you can cast spells again?” Cecil asked with a raised eyebrow, still sitting on his spot on the ground. The tunic had slipped down even further now, his body somewhat exposed in the glow of the campfire. It was a sight for his sore eyes and scrambled brain...

_“Well there’s definitely something I could think of...NO LANCE NO”_

Lance kept busy to keep his mind off his dream and it worked. He started by gathering his damaged armor and used his spell of Mending to fix the dents from the ogre’s morningstar until it was good as new. He hummed along while polishing the breastplate and shoulder guard marked with the sun of Enrasil made of leather and strong steel. He did the same with his silver-tipped sword, polishing it with responsible duty. 

Cecil on the other hand continued to lounge on his bedroll, flipping through a leather-bound bookmarked with arcane runes. Lance didn’t recognize it. 

“Whatcha looking it?” 

“It's a Book of Shadows. Filled with arcane knowledge given to me by my patron” Cecil replied flipping the page. He didn’t believe Lance was as ‘fine’ as he claimed, but he wasn’t going to pry. 

“Oh okay, warlock stuff got it. Mind if I join you?” Lance asked, retrieving one of the books he had snagged from the library downstairs. 

“Knock yourself out” Cecil smiled and gave Lance room to slide in next to him. The cleric joined and opened the book he had chosen, an undead bestiary. His eyes poured over the text, page after page about the various types of specters and spirits. He felt a certain type of dread creep across his skin as he read about the _Wraith_ , an undead creature fueled by anger and malice that absorbed all light and life around them. The more he learned the more prepared he felt to go back down to help Cecil retrieve what it was he was looking for. 

“Hey Cecil, what is it we’re going down to look for again?” He asked, putting the book aside and looking towards his companion. 

Cecil remained quiet for a moment before he set his own book aside.

“I want to find the bones of my friend Zetta. She died here a long time ago. She always told me about how badly she wanted to return home to her village, to her family. I want to help her finally go home, even if it’s in death.” Cecil replied as if he was deeply reminiscing. Lance noticed the look in his eyes, haunted. 

“Well, we’ll find her!” Lance smiled and put his arm around Cecil, giving him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “I’ll be down there with you every step of the way. It’s nice having your own cleric isn’t it?” he said with a wink.

Cecil gave an entertained giggle and began to get up. “Keep it up, darling.” Before getting up, Cecil leaned over and kissed his cheek “You know, I think you might have gotten stronger since that Ogre scuffle.” He then stood and began to walk towards his bag again, retrieving another set of clothes from his bag. 

Lance watched his every move, his hand gently against where Cecil had kissed him. His lips weren’t nearly as cold as he had been expecting it to be, but his cheeks had heated up all the same. He tried to pay attention to his book, but his eyes still peeked over the edge of his book at Cecil. 

The vampire undid the tie around his tunic and it loosened it further, causing it to drop even further down around his elbows, exposing his torso. His pale skin was flawless under the silk fabric, like pure porcelain. He had sharp collarbones, a taut abdomen, and a waist that had an almost feminine curve to it. His hip bones protruded out slightly, but in no way did he look too thin. His figure was truly something sculpted from beauty and try as he might, Lance couldn’t truly look away. But this wasn’t an issue as Cecil adored the fact he was being observed. He flipped his hair over to cover his back that now was turned to Lance. He could still feel the cleric’s gaze on him. 

“I-I’m gonna go do some warm-ups!” Lance announced suddenly, setting his book to the side and quickly getting up. Cecil glanced over his shoulder to watch Lance nearly dash out of the room. He chuckled in entertained delight and began to further change. 

When Lance returned from his warmups, consisting of some laps through abandoned hallways, pull-ups on a stone doorway, and a series of pushups, he had calmed down again and felt more motivated than ever. Returning to camp, he grabbed a cloth that he proceeded to soak in water and cleaned his face of any sweat once again. He also pulled his undershirt from the place it had been drying all night, now good as new. He pulled the shirt over his head, struggling only a second because of its tightness which was meant to prevent any under-armor chafing. It had a high collar but no sleeves as well. While he normally preferred cool and loose linen clothing, it was not suitable for fighting. He normally carried a spare shirt but after an incident, while on the trek he’d taken after he left the temple, he had had to use it for the fabric to make a torch after getting lost in the forest. He missed that shirt. The short-sleeved undershirt also helped keep him cool, not adding an extra layer under the steel half-plate armor he wore. It wasn’t the fanciest armor, not at all. It wasn’t engraved with a fancy design or rich colors, made of rare metals or dragon's teeth. That kind of armor was reserved for much more experienced adventurers, ones that sought out precious materials from the earth or from the monsters they slew. Eventually, he would get there, but for now, he was content with reliable steel. He always suited up going bottom to top, starting with his leg guards and ending with his arm cuffs. First came the belt that he fastened around his waist, and then the two plates of armor that protected his thighs, buckling them with a tug of the leather straps. He didn’t like wearing much leg armor due to the fact it restricted his movements, but this was just enough to keep him safe. Now fully secured, he moved onto the pieces that would protect his chest and torso. The breastplate had a raised neck that did a good job of not suffocating him and leaving his head mobile while protecting him from creatures that liked to go for the neck. It had built-in shoulder guards as well that moved freely when he swung his sword. The placard around his torso had no design, but its special feature was that it had a set of layered plates around the abdomen that allowed him to move and bend along with his body, alleviating the bulkiness that tended to hinder him. He fastened the leather straps to secure the pieces around his body. Lastly, he fastened the arm bracers around his forearms, tugging the leather straps with his teeth to get them tight. The final touch was pulling a pair of leather gloves on. 

“No tabard?” Cecil’s voice chimed from the throne he was once again lounging in as they had camped in the former throne room. The voice shot a chill up Lance’s spine after hearing it so out of the blue before realizing Cecil had watched him armor up. 

“Not yet. I figured I would get my first tabard when I earned it after I found a guild or garrison” Lance offered with a smile before he turned to get his sword, only it wasn’t where he thought he left it. He started to look around, internally telling himself not to panic. 

“It’s interesting that you almost hide your symbol of Enrasil” Lance heard Cecil reply, but he didn’t turn to look at him yet, still scanning their campsite for the weapon. The sheath that Lance wore across his chest, keeping his sword to his back nearly covered the symbol. 

“How so?” He asked.

“Most clerics drape it somewhere on their armor even if it's an eyesore. You're lucky Enrasil's symbol is such an agreeable sun, less likely to clash.” 

“Well, it’s not like I have to parade it everywhere you know? Sometimes it’s easier to just look like a simple knight when passing through. I’m not exactly the best at giving holy guidance.” Lance chuckled though he felt himself starting to panic, not being able to find his sword anywhere.

“Most people are pretty ignorant about holy symbols anyway, though I knew you were a cleric the moment I saw it on your armor. But there was also the small detail of it on the hilt of your sword.” Cecil’s voice sounded closer now but Lance still didn’t look towards him. His statement made complete sense, however, as the small engraved suns on the hilt marked it as a weapon of a Cleric, even if swords were rather untraditional for Clerics to use. “Though the silver tip is the most impressive detail. Did you think of that?” 

“Y-yeah I did. I knew there’s a lot of creatures I’d probably end up facing out that are vulnerable to silver, so I thought it would be a good idea to have that feature. I doubt I’m the first one though…” Lance still couldn’t find the sword in question. Panicking now, he quickly turned around “Cecil have you seen my-” 

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to look at me” Cecil was leaning with his elbow atop the sword’s hilt and his other hand on his hip, flashing Lance a mischievous little smirk. He had changed outfits too it seemed. Cecil now wore a white collared shirt with layered ruffles on the chest and sleeves that reached his elbows adorned with lace trim. It had ornate buttons that ran up the center but it was clear Cecil didn’t care to button it all the way as his bare chest was exposed in a clean V shape, displaying his sharp collar bones. A leather belt reached his midriff wrapped around his waist, synching it as the set of buttons and had done on the black blouse he wore last. Around his neck, the cloak that draped behind him was locked in place by a chain. Instead of a braid, he wore his hair tied high and off his neck with a band, the perfect amount falling out to frame his face. 

“...I’m starting to feel underdressed here” Lance chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. _“Gods why is he this pretty.”_

“That isn’t your fault” Cecil twirled the hilt in his fingers, the hilt landing squarely in his hand to hand it back to Lance.

“Yeah, but we’re going into a crypt, got a ghost you need to impress?” the cleric teased as Cecil’s outfit was fit for a gala. 

“Maybe we’ll bump into someone I know” Cecil shrugged casually and slung a smaller bag across his body. “I dress to impress” 

Cecil had already packed up camp a bit it seemed, their miscellaneous equipment like their bedrolls tucked to the side along with two other bags, one that Lance recognized as his Bag of Holding with his books inside.

“Shouldn’t we take these with us?” Lance asked curiously, though he still grabbed his normal traveling knapsack where he kept his supplies. 

Cecil shook his head.

“The danger of these bags is that if they tear everything inside is dumped into the astral plane. That's why I left mine up here earlier, and I’d hate for you to lose your haul.” 

“You have a bag of holding too?”

“Stole it the first time I left this dump. Now you have one.” Cecil winked. “Make sure you have everything you need before we go down,” he said, looking through his side bag before pausing. “Crap I almost forgot.” 

Cecil knelt down and reached into his own bag of holding from where he had pulled his clothes from what Lance had seen so far. He rooted around for a moment. 

“Nope, this isn’t it” Cecil placed an ornate vase on the floor. He reached in again. 

“Uh... no this isn’t it either” He pulled out a whole violin before shoving it back inside. Lance watched Cecil root around for another minute, pulling various other objects from the Bag of Holding. The strangest was certainly the cat-shaped lantern he had retrieved.

“Finally, here it is” Cecil pulled a small box from the bag, opening it carefully. Inside laid a necklace with the pendant of an eye with an iris made of what looked like deep purple amethyst. Lance watched the vampire fasten it around his neck, the silvery looking metal laying against his chest. 

“What is it?” Lance asked, moving to get a closer look.

“It’s an Amulet of Scrying.” Cecil explained “While it isn’t perfect magic, It’ll tell me when I’m close to Zetta’s bones. I knew the way there once, so it uses those subconscious memories to guide me. It should also help me tell them apart from the others. I hope it works.” 

Lance could see that whoever this Zetta was, Cecil mourned her greatly. 

“Well, shall we be off?” Cecil then stood with that positive and confident grin again. At the throne he pressed down on the same ruby he did before and once again the floor was opened up. Lance felt a calm sense of serenity, that he knew he could make it down there alongside Cecil, to help him complete this duty he had. However, at the same time, he felt terrified of what awaited them. 

Once again, the duo of Cleric and Warlock descended the stairwell into the catacombs of the undead, not knowing who or what awaited them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any comments and feedback are super appreciated! Reach out at @gaycalculator on tumblr


	5. Drained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he's entered the tombs of the dead, Lance is faced with what feels like a final test of apparitions and spirits. Meanwhile Cecil is able to start his quest to find who he came for. However, will this endeavor begin to stir up echos of the past?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Implications of past abuse

_“You know I’m pretty nervous…” A young woman admitted, her voice soft as she brushed out the long white hair of the beautiful man that sat in front of her._

_“Really? May I ask why?” He asked, surprisingly, in interest._

_“Well I mean you’re Lord Domik’s closest courtesan. I can’t help but feel a responsibility now that I’m in your service. I don’t even know what I should address you as.”_

_“Zetta, my dear, there is no need to be nervous. Just call me Cecil.” He said with an airiness to his voice, as if he was trying to calm her. “You haven’t been here long have you?”_

_She shook her head no as she brushed the fine-toothed black pearl comb through the white locks._

_“Domik brought me here a few days ago.”_

_“He finds mortals entertaining, so most of his concubines are either humans or half-elves. The guards tend to be weaker vampires or hired swords. I’m sure you’ve met quite a few so far.” he explained. “But how did he come across you Zetta?”_

_“He found me wandering near the border in Magnus. I was lost and hungry so he offered me a position in his castle.”_

_He was silent for a moment as if he was thinking about something in-depth._

_“And that job was to be my handmaid was it?”_

_“Aye. I left my farming village to find some excitement in my life again. I made it to a lot of places but unfortunately, my supplies got stolen, which is why I was wandering. He rode past me and took me into town. After we talked for a while he presented me with an opportunity here.”_

_She had never worked for what she knew was akin to royalty, finding herself in service in a vampire’s castle so far from home. She had plenty of concerns but for some reason, she was content to let things fall where they may. When he specified she would be a personal servant to his prize courtesan, she didn’t know what to think, though she was somewhat thankful he hadn’t expressed any interest in her in that way. She was expecting to meet a gorgeous woman dressed in fine clothes with all the grace and elegance of a queen. However, she had quickly learned from other servants that in Domik’s harem which consisted of concubines across many different backgrounds and appearances, Cecil Baranski was the most imposing of them all. He was not only a vampire turned by Domik himself, but he was intellectual, quick-witted, a trusted advisor to their Lord. He was also jaw-droppingly beautiful with long, pure white hair that cascaded down his back and a face that could make gods envious, according to the other concubines and servants she met. However, she quickly got the impression that they didn’t like him, to put it lightly. He did not live as they did, with their own personal lives within the castle, interconnected and happy inside their little community. No, he was leagues above them, the personal scribe and courtesan to the Lord himself. He always appeared so refined and stoic, a pretty framed face adorned with jewels and expensive fabric that accompanied the Lord nearly everywhere. It was common knowledge that concubines might be lent out for the night to other vampiric lords and ladies used as negotiation offers or just good fun, but this was never the case with Cecil. According to one servant, another Lord once tried to charm him and make an offer to Domik, to which Domik then cut off his arm, but she highly doubted this was the case. They painted a portrait of someone who thought himself so high he could easily look down on them, basking him in the same aura given to their lord and masters. It made her nervous to meet the one she would be serving._

_“E-Excuse me I shouldn’t have spoken so much out of turn” She quickly apologized, realizing she was rambling._

_“Zetta, as long as you’re here don’t worry about any formalities. I’m only Cecil and you’re Zetta.” This time he stood and turned around to look her in the eyes. “I do not think of you as my servant.” The way he spoke to her was full of respect and kindness and that's when the human realized all those rumors were all wrong. He did not think of her as a lowly servant, no, it seemed he just wanted to make a friend. She smiled at him and stuck her hand out._

_“Well then let's redo this whole thing. I’m Zetta Nezerin.” She was grinning brightly_

_He looked at her hand as if unsure what to do before he smiled back and took it._

_“I’m Cecil Baranski. Would you like me to make you some tea?”_

_“That sounds lovely”_

_-_

“You know I almost wish we were back with the zombies now,” Lance shivered as they walked through a dark hallway deep within the catacombs. He tried to remind himself that they weren't surrounded by what he presumed was dead bodies locked behind the stone walls. If not for their abilities to see in the dark and the torch Lance held, it would’ve been almost pitch black. Every now and again Lance saw something move in the corner of his eye and then tried his damndest to ignore it, to little avail.

“Keep wishing that and they might crawl out of the ground right now” Cecil chirped with mirth.

“Don't say that!” Lance whined, jumping a bit at the mental image.

Cecil laughed aloud and began to walk backward, facing Lance as he took step after step back. 

“We’re simply walking through the entranceway right now. There shouldn’t be any bodies around here at all, they were taken to the vault to lay to rest. However, there are some rooms throughout this complex we should take note of.” Cecil gestured towards one such room that looked dilapidated but had what looked to be embalming tables or something similar. “Sometimes they would do rituals down here too”

“I can’t believe you were going to go into this place alone”

“I could say the same thing to you” 

“Well yeah but-” Lance stuttered and Cecil laughed.

“The reason I brought so many healing potions with me is that I knew there wouldn’t be much of the physical undead down here for me to feed on if things got rough. It’s mostly going to be ghosts that aren't always hostile. What we do need to look out for is specters.” 

“Specters are vengeful spirits right?” Lance re-confirmed, remembering how many kinds of spirits there were. “The ones who could never find rest.” 

“Yes, and unfortunately there’s going to be a lot of unhappy entities down here.” Cecil sounded grim as he stopped in his tracks. “My goal was to come down here for Zetta, even if I had to fight my way through. I can’t do more for the other spirits trapped down here, even if I wanted to.”  
“You don't want to help them?” Lance asked, though his tone was not accusatory.

“I don’t know if I can. I’m not someone with the power to save, after all, I’m a warlock,” Cecil replied, his voice calm but serious. “Zetta is the only one I’m responsible for down here.” 

The two walked in heavy silence for a bit longer. Lance had learned so much about Cecil, but he knew there was still more to his past. He couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for Cecil in the over two centuries he was here. But it was obvious that Zetta was incredibly important to Cecil.

“What was she like?” 

Cecil looked like he visibly relaxed. 

“She was hilarious. She was always able to make me laugh no matter what was going on.” He smiled brightly thinking about it “She was brave too, determined, if not a bit reckless. But she was also childish at times and well… naive. It made me feel protective over her, and I-I still do.” Lance noticed how Cecil held himself gently as he recanted this. Then he snickered and smiled wide, beginning to laugh aloud and touched Lance’s arm. “Wait wait I have to tell you about this one time we accidentally--”

Cecil went on to tell Lance stories about Zetta, how she was quick thinking, and always looking for fun. He was bright-eyed and smiling while imbued with her memory. It made Lance smile, but he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to her. But he didn’t intend to ask, knowing it wasn’t his place. 

“If she wasn’t a vampire how did she end up here though?” He asked tentatively. He noticed the look in Cecil’s eyes shift. 

“That’s when her naivete was a fault. She had left her home village to seek her own adventure but due to events that followed, she found herself wandering the border of Aetroth, near where you entered I believed. Domik… he found her. He offered her a place in the castle as a servant. As...My servant. However, I knew I could make sure she never suffered a day. Whenever it was just the two of us it was never master and servant, just two friends,” Cecil sounded sad, but still comforted to think about her. _“I wish I could have protected her as I should have.”_

“She sounds amazing. I’m glad you had someone like her while you were here.” Lance put his arm around Cecil familiarly to comfort him. Though he couldn’t help but think that maybe she should’ve known better than to put her fate in the hands of a vampire lord. 

“We’re here,” Cecil stopped in front of a huge stone door at the end of the chamber. 

“What is it?” 

“This is where the bones were kept. Behind here we’re going to run into our fair share of enemies and well, don’t get freaked out when you see some ghosts.” Cecil offered with a little smirk. 

“G-got it. Okay! Open her up!” Lance took hold of his sword, psyching himself up once again in preparation for battle. 

Cecil retrieved his key once again and pressed the ruby to a groove in the wall. The same red glow encased the door before the rumbling of moving stone took place, the two doors pulling apart slowly. Lance had been expecting to see a dark, dripping, dank cavern that reeked of death and decay. However, when the doors opened, he was met with light. The same crystals he had seen throughout the catacombs lined the walls of the tomb, illuminating the chamber with a soft white light. The ceilings were high arches carved from marble with pillar supports every couple of yards. He dares say it was beautiful. But he suddenly looked at the many split pathways, intersecting corridors, and felt the anxiety settle in his chest. 

“That's… A lot.”

“It is,” Cecil placed a hand on the necklace. “I’m definitely too far to track her down here. We’ll have to make it through hundreds of years of bodies while we’re down here. Tell me, will this be your first experience with ghosts?” Cecil asked, beginning to walk ahead. 

“N-not exactly. When I was a kid I went to pee in the woods one night and there were definitely ghosts staring at me. I screamed and ran back to camp and cried to my mom. I think I was 6 at the time,” Lance replied, Cecil immediately cackling at the thought. 

“What was your mom like?” 

It was Lance’s turn to relax. He was always so close to his mother as he was by her side nearly every day until he was 13 years old. 

“She was super protective over me. I could barely play with the horses without her keeping a watchful eye on me. She taught me a lot of stuff too, like sewing, cooking, how to skin an animal carcass, how to chop wood, everything I learned from her. It...It’s also how I got this” he channeled a sacred flame. 

“Your mother was a cleric?” Cecil asked upon realizing what he meant. 

“She left the practice a long time before I was born, but she always held the connection to Enrasil her entire life. Apparently, I was born with the connection too, unlike any of my siblings,” Lance gazed into the sacred flame, the warmth feeling like a little heartbeat in his hand. “I know the nature of our caravan weighed heavy on her soul, it must have. I know that’s why she was so protective of me. She also taught me how to do this,” Lance grinned, and then the sacred flame broke itself into multiple pieces, flying outwards into a rotating circle as if they were dancing. Cecil watched as Lance controlled them with a smile on his face, the flickering flames spelling out…

“My name?” Cecil snickered as the dancing flames spelled out his name.

“Why not?” Lance winked. 

Then he noticed something. Coming towards them were pale blue glowing figures, their forms appearing sharp and ripped, thin bony arms coming from their bodies, and a skull set with piercing yellow eyes. It was a group of 3 specters.

“Fuck,” Cecil swore and prepared himself to fight as they grew closer. 

“They haven’t seen us yet, which gives us an advantage,” Lance smirked, and then in an instant, the small dancing flames shot forward in a barrage, raining down upon the vengeful undead. They all shrieked as they came into contact with the radiant magic that fueled the flames, their bodies momentarily burning before they let out an inhuman shriek and charged towards the duo. 

“Don’t let them touch you,” Cecil called to Lance as he charged Eldritch blast in both his hands. He launched the two beams forward which pierced two of the specters, which made them scream out but did not impede them greatly. 

“Come on are you that mad over a little fire?” Lance sounded cocky as he summoned a second sacred flame and launched it at the third specter. However, to his dismay, the flame that made contact only seemed to deflect off the being’s torso, causing only minimal damage and angering the spirit more than anything. The specter then reached out towards Lance, it’s grotesque face letting out a shriek as it grabbed for him. It’s bony hand made contact with his shoulder. He couldn’t react as he felt what was like thin knives, piercing his skin through the armor and drained the energy from his body. He was unable to move as he felt the hand begin to reach further inside him, hoping to tap into something deeper. However, with a scream of exertion, he broke free and put some distance between him and the spirit, sword raised. 

“You’re wasting one-liners on these guys,” Cecil replied as the two spirits dove towards him. He dodged one, but the other did the same as what was done to Lance, the skeletal hand making contact with Cecil’s back and pulling energy from his body. Cecil made a choking noise and grabbed at his chest before the skeletal hand pulled free. The vampire stumbled backward, still clutching at his chest. 

“What happened?” Lance asked, moving in front of Cecil while he caught his breath. 

“They don’t just steal your energy” He breathed heavily “They try to steal from our very life force. I can’t heal what they took from me just now for a while but I’ll be fine,” Cecil suddenly grinned. “It won’t happen again,” Cecil stepped out from behind Lance, the eldritch blasts charging in his hands before both bolts rocketed towards the two specters that had been harassing him. Upon contact, the spirits shrieked as the purple glow entangled them before their physical forms dispelled in a blue flame. 

Lance kept his eyes trained on the final specter floating not too far from him. He took a deep breath and sheathed his sword before he began to conjure the orb of a guiding bolt in his hands. He kept his eyes trained on the enraged glow of the undead specter and let the bright white blast shoot towards the spirit. When it made contact, the spirit couldn’t even make a sound before the glow crushed the dark energy that animated it under the radiant glow, so bright it made Cecil avert his eyes. Just like that, the spirit was vanquished.

The two were left standing there, still catching their breath from the encounter.  
“Well then.” Cecil dusted himself off. “If you keep blasting like that we won’t have much of an issue I think.” 

“You sure you’re okay?” Lance was concerned about what the specter did to Cecil, and had tried to do to him. 

“There’s no point in worrying about it. It’ll take forever if we stop for every little bit of damage we takedown here.” He shrugged, giving the impression he wasn’t concerned at all. 

The pair continued forward, keeping an eye out for anything that moved towards them. 

“Uh so...how many people did you say would be in here?” Lance didn’t think he’d like the answer.

“Hundreds. Anyone who lost their lives in this castle would be down here. An undead army at his fingertips if he so desired.” 

“Oh Hadan...” Lance felt nearly sick to his stomach imagining, hoping the ever-wise God of Death would give him a break. He knew that this would have taken place over however many centuries, but that didn’t change the fact there were so many lost souls down here. “My mother always told me to pray for the souls of the lost. Whoever lost their lives unjustly.” 

“That’s very smart of her. You know, I think she would be incredibly proud of you.” Cecil smiled up at Lance. 

“Th-thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. 

“Did you ever think you would end up walking through catacombs with a vampire?” Cecil smirked which made Lance laugh. 

“Oh, definitely not. Not that I’m complaining, you’re good at keeping me excited, to say the least” Lance thought it almost funny that he was so drawn to a vampire he met in a virtual graveyard.

“I know I am.” Cecil teased. “And lucky for me I found myself a big strong cleric to protect me.” 

They continued, only getting slightly lost in an entwining pathway, walking in circles after they got separated in a dark corridor. 

“Lance? Where did you go?”

“I’m over here! I’m holding a torch!” 

“I don’t see it! Just move towards my voice”

“Ceece I can't see you! You’re wearing too much black!” 

“I’m wearing a white shirt! Don’t you have a spell that can-” Cecil rounded the corner and bumped into a sturdy hard wall of a person, causing him to fall atop the figure. Cecil looked down and was a few inches from Lance’s face who was looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Th-there you are,” Lance gulped, still blushing. Cecil grinned down at him.

“Well that's settled,” Cecil sounded entertained, sitting back on his legs and pulling away enough for Lance to sit up. “But let’s not do that again just yet.” 

Lance sat up and was still almost nose to nose with Cecil, holding the torch away from his companion so as to not hurt him. “Y-yeah” 

Cecil then stood and reached out to help Lance up. He took Cecil’s hand and got up, mostly on his own though, knowing Cecil was too weak to pull up over 50 pounds of metal, but he appreciated it all the same. It made Lance stumble forward a bit into Cecil’s space again before he caught balance, but it still made Lance notice how much he towered over Cecil. 

“S-sorry,” Lance almost forgot where they were, especially upon hearing Cecil laugh. “I really don’t want to crush you.” 

“I don’t think I would mind that much. But thanks for looking out for me,” Cecil winked, his hand placed on Lance’s chest and wiping a speck of dirt from the metal. Lance gave a smile in return, wanting to just ignore what was happening for a moment and just enjoy being around Cecil. However, the way Cecil’s face fell when he realized something pulled him out of the moment.

“That's strange,” Cecil pulled away and walked further down the corridor. It was then he noticed the crystals were missing from the walls. This cavern was rich in glowing crystals but, of course, it grew sporadically, so it didn’t illuminate the entirety of the catacombs. However, the entirety of the hallway ahead of them was completely empty of the glowing rocks. “There should be crystals here. They wouldn’t have left such a huge section with no light. It’s extremely dangerous considering the nature of the tombs.” 

“It looks like they were intentionally destroyed” Lance knelt down, holding the torch to the ground and examining the shattered shards of the crystal. “But shouldn’t they still be glowing?” 

Lance didn’t notice the streaks of moving shadow creeping across the ground and wall towards him. But Cecil did. 

“Lance. Move towards me very slowly,” Cecil stood ready to attack, his eyes wide with dread. 

“Wh-what's wrong?” Lance began to slowly stand. He then felt something latch around him as if another human was grabbing onto his arm. He didn’t want to look, but he did. With the torch’s glow, he saw a humanoid form near inches from the side of his face. However, it was only that: a form. It had no face, no features, but it stayed latched to him. Lance quickly jerked away and tried to roll to the side but was stopped by another form coming out of the darkness that entwined around his body. Above him loomed two more shapes of shadow people and looking to the side, and two more came towards him. His heart was pounding out of his chest and then he felt the uncomfortable familiarity of something trying to drain him. 

“HYAH!” Cecil let out a cry of exertion as he came swinging, the shadow blade summoned in his hand. He slashed at the two figures atop Lance first. They made no noise as their bodies were cut in two, the shades simply dissipating into thin air. Cecil then turned his attack to the other two shadows coming out of the darkness, swinging as if he was going to decapitate them as they lunged towards him. Cecil was out of breath from such an attack, but it had quickly saved Lance. The two shadows began to latch themselves around Cecil, but for some reason abandoned the endeavor. Cecil fell back beside Lance and the shadows slid away into the darkness. 

“These are Shadows right?” Lance asked as he stood back to back with Cecil. 

“They’re weak but this place is probably crawling with them. They probably destroyed the lights to have a place to hide away.” Cecil inferred, grabbing the torch before it could go out, ignoring the amplified heat he felt from it. “You have to watch out,” Cecil said with an emphasis on the word _You._

“Why just me?” Lance was the cleric, the one who was supposed to vanquish the undead, and he wasn’t keen on Cecil putting himself at risk. 

“Because to them, I’m already dead. They only care about the vitality of the living, especially the energy of warm people like you.” Cecil gripped his sword, standing protectively over Lance. “They want you, and if they succeed they’ll drain all your strength and vitality away.” 

“S-so that’s why you weren’t worried about them?” 

“Get down!” Cecil called and Lance ducked quickly as Cecil sliced at one of the shadows that dropped from the ceiling, causing it to dissipate.

“I wasn’t worried because I knew the crystals prevented them from forming-” Cecil stabbed another shadow that was reaching behind them before the shadow blade dissipated from his grasp. “And there was regular upkeep! But I didn’t think they would grow smart enough to destroy them!” 

Lance took the torch and formed a sacred flame in one of his hands to further illuminate the area, looking down the path to where the light of the crystals was still emanating. 

“I say we run for it” Lance ascertained, grabbing Cecil’s wrist and pulling him towards the light that slowly got closer and closer. The shadows pulled themselves from their hiding spots and tried to grab for Lance, however they couldn’t grab him by the heavy metal armor he wore or he was simply too strong for them to maintain their grasp long enough to attack. Cecil was busy keeping them at bay with a barrage of eldritch blasts, some of the attacks strong enough to destroy the creatures in one shot but the others still in pursuit. A glowing chamber grew closer as the shadow creatures reached out towards Lance.

It was then he felt something pass through him entirely which made him come to a crashing halt as it felt as if something was constricting him inside, draining from his very bones. 

“Lance!” Cecil exclaimed, dropping to help his companion. The shadow was constricting him, digging inside of him looking to rip out something precious. Before he could do anything, A sacred flame shot the shadow off of Lance who was trying to catch his breath. He physically felt weaker, not only injured. But he ignored it and got to his feet, knowing they wouldn’t be able to make it far as they were surrounded now. Lance put his hand on Cecil’s shoulder and cast Aid, a spell which temporarily revitalized the both of them, just a bit. The shadows came for them as they backed into the light, inching ever closer. Cecil made sure to keep the shadows off of Lance as best he could while Lance shot off a number of guiding bolts as well, but both of them were growing tired.

  
“RUN!” Cecil commanded, staying atop his companions as much as he could before making it into the light. In those few feet, Cecil took an attack meant for Lance, even if they weren’t aiming for him. The shadow reached inside Cecil and tried to root around inside him, looking to pull something out. Cecil felt nothing before he grinned at the creature, then decimating it with a powerful eldritch blast. Lance had made it past the threshold and was beginning to close the large wooden doors that blocked off the dark hallway. The first one was shut completely and the second was slowly closing shut as well. Lance reached out as soon as Cecil was within his grasp and yanked him back into the safe room by the hood of his cloak, causing the vampire to make a choking noise before landing on his ass as the final door slammed shut. Cecil decided to instead lay on the cool stone floor and catch his breath, Lance falling to his back out of breath as well. 

“H-How much damage did-did they do to you?” Cecil asked, breathing heavy, rolling over to look at Lance and retrieving a cloth to wipe his companion’s forehead. 

“N-not good,” Lance was clutching his chest trying to breathe. The two of them had fought off so many shadows, but Lance knew he had taken damage that was too close for comfort.

  
“Just rest,” Cecil stroked through his companion’s sweat laden hair with the cloth. He then retrieved the waterskin from Lance’s supplies, helping the Cleric up and supporting him with one arm, he brought the water to his lips, making sure he drank. “You’re alright- let's just rest.” 

“Why do you sound so scared?” Lance chuckled softly but allowed Cecil to hold him, reaching up to brush a bit of hair from his companion’s face. 

“Because...Because if they steal that much of your strength you...you would be dead. I don’t even want to know how close they could have gotten to doing so,” Cecil turned his cheek in towards Lance’s hand. “You’re only down here because of me. I won’t let you get hurt on my watch.” 

Lance had backed up against a wall and rested his head against the stone. He then pulled Cecil over to him, only somewhat delirious. 

“You need to rest, too,” he said, pulling the smaller vampire against him.

Cecil was, admittedly, surprised but let Lance pull him into his hold. He relaxed in turn.

“You’re too good to be down here you know,” Cecil sighed. “I should have known they’d make a target out of you.”

“Well live and learn. It's not like it's avoidable, right? This is my job after all,” Lance replied softly, closing his eyes now. It didn’t take long for him to drift off. 

Cecil allowed himself to rest and go into a meditative state while he rested against sleeping Lance’s warmth

-

_“Master, I don’t understand why you gave her to me,” He felt ill describing it like this. His master had presented a young woman to be his handmaid and he hated the thought to his very core. There were plenty of servants who had been delegated to help him in the past, but this was the first who was his alone. He hadn’t even properly met her yet._

_“Because, my dear, you deserve it. You take care of so much for me I thought a reward was in order,” His master leered while watching him redress._

_“...Thank you, my master,” He said softly, but the feeling of sickness did not leave his stomach._

_“You can do whatever you please with her. A warm and living human. She seems quite competent, able to do what you command. Maybe all you wish is to use her as a form of sustenance,” His master chuckled, but then closed in on the courtesan’s space “However, she’s never allowed to act as that to you, you know what I am referring to yes?” The tone was dark and predatory, a clawed hand around his face, making sure he looked his master in the eye._

_“I-I would never. I would never let anyone else touch me,” The white-haired courtesan knew this rule well, not that he would ever do something like that. He still felt intense dread, an emotion that had taken root within him, though he played entirely submissive. The other concubines were free to mingle, have their own relationships, but never him. His master exercised complete and utter control over his being. The hands pulled from his face._

_“I don’t know why I worry about you Cecil, my brilliant scribe. You’d never betray me.”_

_“Aye.”_

_“You may go tend to the rest of your court duties now. I will not require your other duties tonight”, He chuckled. “Unless the others prove to bore me as they so often do.”_

_The white-haired courtesan left the room shortly after, hugging the shawl around him to his body as he went to return to his chamber._

_-_

Cecil came out of his state rather quickly, feeling his arcane energy restored, but knew he needed longer to heal from the specter's curse. He quickly looked to Lance who was no longer pale and out of breath, simply resting.

 _“He looks so peaceful…”_ Cecil thought to himself, reaching out and tucking a bit of the Cleric’s hair out of the way. He normally tried to not worry about anyone but himself when he joined with other adventurers. Most of the time their union was purely for the business of course, and while Cecil would never betray a group he was working with, he felt little closeness to them, just as he knew they did not necessarily want him there either. However, every now and again in the 25 years since he had become a warlock, he was able to bond with someone every now and again. These were people he cherished even after going their separate ways, but when they came together again it was as if nothing had ever changed. 

It was clear to him Lance was becoming one of them, or he already was one. Cecil reached out to tuck messy bits of hair behind Lance’s ear, his fingers brushing against them, causing them to twitch. Lance woke up shortly after. 

“Hey,” He smiled and felt his energy completely restored, the Cleric reaching up and stretching. Whatever the shadows had done to him was fixed and some of his strength had returned as well. He cast a quick spell of cure wounds to fix himself up further. “That was a really good nap.” 

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” Cecil smirked and picked up Lance’s sword, handing it back to him. “Next time we walk through there lets just set the place on fire.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Lance chuckled. He reached out to heal Cecil as well, but the vampire moved his hand away. 

“I didn’t take much damage last time. Don’t waste your spells on me,” Cecil pointed out which made Lance realize he didn’t have much divine energy in him. They would have to find a place to rest longer than just a simple nap, but they would worry about that later.

“Fine, fine,” Lance held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll save my magic for when I need to save your ass again,” He grinned.

“Didn’t know you had smack talk in you,” Cecil flipped his ponytail over his shoulder “Make sure you can back it up.” 

“With pleasure.” 

They had started off again, following the illuminating crystals, passing a door to a closed-off chamber every now and again. 

“These are the mausoleums themselves. Tons of dead bodies in them,” Cecil said, knockin his hand against the stone. “In a way, I wish the upkeep had been taken more seriously.” 

“As long as they don’t crawl out and try to eat us,” Lance had the shivers “I can’t believe how much I’ve learned down here” 

“Would you really call it learning?” Cecil asked with a scoff in his voice, though it was not directed at Lance. 

“Well life or death situations always make for the best teacher,” Lance sounded a bit too giddy as he made this claim. The entirety of his time down here felt like a gauntlet of training, a final exam. And so far he was acing it, of course, he was going to be proud of himself. 

“Well, then I say you’re doing a wonderful job as a student. Now I say we should-” The vampire was cut out by the torch in Lance’s hand going out in a gasp. 

The two of them stared at it with wide eyes, Lance only needing to look past Cecil a bit to see that a mausoleum door was slightly ajar. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” The Cleric groaned and reached for his sword, preparing for combat again. 

There was the sound of wispy groans and gasps curling through the air around them, like someone who was struggling to breathe. 

_“Ce...cil”_ The voice bemoaned as if it was filling all the air around them, encapsulating them. 

“W-was that…” Lance looked to his companion but found Cecil was just staring ahead of him, red eyes wide. 

“Fucking Wraiths!” Cecil swore as two shadowy hands reached out towards him from the darkness. 

It was a ghastly figure that appeared as if it was made by swirling smoke with long sharp bony hands coming from inside the illusionary cloak. They grabbed at Cecil and cut into him with a strong grip, the pain feeling much like the specters. However, the pain was still much worse, as if daggers were being forced into his body. It made Cecil cry out in pain, his body nearly going limp.  
Wraiths were creatures born out of pure malice and hare, created as the embodiment of such evil that seeks to destroy all forms of light and life. It would drain the energy from a small flame, the life from fallen leaves, and apparently even the life force of another undead. 

Lance wanted to be scared, but every part of his spirit forced those fears down when he saw the horror dig its grip into Cecil. Before he knew it he had charged a Guiding Bolt in hand and forced it to the horror’s face, a blinding light momentarily filling the room. A guttural growl came from the vengeful being and it released its prey. Cecil fell forward a bit but was able to catch himself. The Wraith had tried to steal from his spirit again just as the specters had, but along with his will and Lance’s attack, it had stopped short. Cecil took the opportunity to grab a healing potion from his bag and swallowed the red liquid down, feeling the potion heal some of the pain he was experiencing. 

“Are you okay?” Lance called as he watched the wraith gather itself from his attack. 

Cecil bared his teeth, charging an eldritch blast in his hands which he quickly directed at the wraith, however, a shock of pain shot through his body and he faltered, losing half the charge of the spell in the process resulting in only a single bolt to hit the Wraith. It barely seemed to phase it. 

The Wraith looked deep within Lance and the half-elf could feel its unending stare in his very core, though he still stood protectively in front of Cecil. Lance locked eyes with it without fear, but a moment later an unending cold passed through his body, threatening to steal his fortitude away. It was only then he realized the target was not him. 

“ _CE...CIL,”_ The raspy voice screamed the Vampire's name, forcing his hand on Cecil’s face who tried to rip it away only to feel the draining pain in the palms of his hands as well. His red eyes could barely see the face of his attacker through the slits of the fingers pressing into his face, the needlepoint fingers slipping further into him. Cecil tried to scream but even the energy of his horrified scream was absorbed by the dark force. 

“Get away from him!” Lance drove the blade of his sword through the Wraith’s body from behind, acting on pure instinct to protect. At first, he felt a shot of fear, remembering that undead creatures like this only took half damage from blades. However...

“SCRAAAA” The Wraith dropped Cecil from its grasp and retreated further into the passageway before turning back to the duo. Lance saw a physical wound in the Wraith’s gut, a pale white glow emanating from it. Cecil had rolled onto his knees and was coughing violently, but he too saw the same thing. 

“S-Silver...it’s weak to Silver” A grin curled on Cecil’s face despite the clear pain etched on his face “Looks like you’ve earned this kill, Priest.” 

Lance realized he held the answer to all their problems right in his hands, his gloves tightening around the golden, sun adorned hilt.  
“Don’t worry Ceece, I’ll handle this,” Lance said with burning confidence, his eyebrows furrowed in determination. He was a Cleric. This was his duty, to vanquish the evil and protect.

“Remind me to give you one hell of a reward.” Cecil was still clutching his chest but got to his feet anyway, the crackling sound of an eldritch blast forming in his hand. 

“Go!” Lance charged as Cecil fired one bolt towards the Wraith, piercing it in the chest. While it didn’t do significant damage, it threw the monster off just enough that as it reached for a charging Lance, it missed the Cleric entirely and Lance swung for its arm. The silver blade sliced the shadowy arm off, with no success of regeneration as it’s wound glowed white. The inhuman scream of anguish it let out made Lance smirk. 

But that smirk did not last long as the Wraith retreated into the wall behind it.  
“Shit, where did it go?” Lance looked all around, but he wasn’t able to see the creature. “Cecil do you-”  
He saw a rain of fire creating a barrier between Cecil and the Wraith, Cecil kneeling on the ground glaring upwards. 

“TRAI...TOR....” The Wraith growled at the weakened vampire. 

“Sorry to disappoint.” Cecil was breathing heavily but his voice was cocky as ever. “Now watch out.” 

Lance slashed at the Wraith, jumping through the Hellish rebuke. Much like a blade meeting blade, the Wraith forced it’s hand through Lance’s chest as he brought his sword down. It hurt greatly, Lance feeling the pain in his stomach, but the adrenaline carried him forward to complete the attack. The silvertip blade made contact with the Wraith’s head, concealed by hoodlike shadows. The silver blade sliced through the Wraith’s skull as it let out a final shriek before disappearing from this plain, vanquished by the Cleric. He looked down at his blade, and though Lance did not regularly pray, he sent his thanks to his patron god, hoping they got the message. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You so much for reading! I love getting to post my work and share it with a new audience! Any comments are welcome and any feedback would be wonderful! Thanks again! 
> 
> Ps: Next chapter will earn the E rating


	6. The Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil and Lance's dance of desire comes to a head over spilled blood. Who doesn't need a moment of reprieve after a near-death experience?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Mentions of Unhealthy coping mechanisms
> 
> This is a smut chapter! While it does have parts that are important to their relationship development if you don't feel like reading all of it you can stop at the line that shows up. Other than that this is just some good old plot-relevant porn.
> 
> Update: okay this chapter just lowkey got more relevant as it establishes some of Cecil's self-destructive tendencies and why this time with Lance is so different, we love after the fact plot development

“Wait shit- Ceece!” Lance then exclaimed, whipping around to where Cecil had collapsed on the ground behind him. At first, he feared the worst before he heard Cecil’s cackle begin to chime, albeit, a strained version of it. 

Cecil was sitting up as he flipped some of his hair out of his face when Lance dropped to his side to help.

“So the rookie gets his first victory.” Cecil laughed, tilting his head with half-lidded eyes, his voice now a seductive sounding drawl. “How does it feel?” 

Lance blushed a bit upon hearing Cecil’s praise. 

“It-it feels good” Lance felt the adrenaline in his blood pumping more fervently than ever, so much so he felt like he could take on a hundred Wraiths. He’d had a hand in bringing down powerful beasts before, but this was the first time he felt like he was truly the victor. “It feels really good.” 

“Then I suppose I owe you, Priest.” Cecil had no qualms in letting his appreciation be known with a coy grin. He began to try and stand, but with a sudden wince, Cecil pressed a hand to his stomach where he felt a burning shock of pain and nearly fell back to the ground. Much to his appreciation, Lance caught him with a hand behind his back.

“Whoa- Whoa are you okay?” Lance wasn’t uninjured but Cecil was obviously worse for wear. He tried to take a look at Cecil’s apparent wound but there wasn’t any physical injury to be seen. 

“Fuck me- Guess they did more damage than I thought.” He tried to just sound mildly inconvenienced, but he was clearly hurting as he inhaled sharply and grit his teeth. 

“Come on, let’s go find somewhere we can actually rest.” Lance picked the petite vampire up as if he weighed nothing, securing both their bags over his other shoulder as he was able to hold Cecil with just one arm for a moment. Cecil instinctively clutched his arms around Lance’s neck but it seemed like he didn’t need to do so. After adjusting the bags properly he brought his arm back to carry Cecil less precariously. 

“Do I even weigh anything to you?” Cecil asked, glancing down at how high he was off the ground now. He would’ve been blushing if he had the blood flow to spare. 

“Nope. I’ve carried bags of flour that weigh more.” Lance teased and began to venture forward. 

“So carrying me around isn’t part of your victory march is it?” Cecil asked having noted the blush on the tips of Lance’s ears.

“I-I mean it’s kinda a perk.” Lance stuttered with a laugh. 

“Well give me time and I can think of the right way to pay you back. A bit of praise would be in order don’t you think?” 

_“I think I’m gonna die”_ Lance screamed in his head. He was getting worse at hiding his ‘little crush’ on Cecil, even though logic said he didn’t really need to. Clearly Cecil ‘liked’ him on some level in return, the tension alone was enough to tell him that.

 _“Why the hell am I using ‘Like’ like we’re 13?”_ It was his pretty face and tiny frame that had drawn him in initially, and that was easy enough to ignore. But between the trust they had formed and the banter they shot back and forth, the tension was growing more and more. And here he was carrying him. _“Lance stop thinking with your dick and-”_

“Earth to Lance.” Cecil snapped his fingers right in front of his face, snapping him out of his mental turmoil. 

“Yeah what’s up?” Lance spit out, hoping he sounded normal. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” The warlock raised an eyebrow before pointing at a door frame partially obscured by curtains. “I think we just found our room for tonight.” 

Lance felt a bead of sweat roll down his face and exhaled before heading over. He pulled back the curtain and gazed into the room. It would’ve been pitch black if not for the glowing crystals outside shining in on the shadows. Lance saw a few candles set on a stand near the door. 

“Hey grab the tinderbox out of my bag.” Lance pulled the backpack off his arm and handed it to Cecil. After rooting around the heavy bag for a moment, the vampire found the fire starter and struck a match. 

“This is way too heavy- you can just put me down and-” 

“Just grab the matches they’re like on the outside pocket.” 

“Fine fine here it is- okay Take it, take it!”

  
“Got it. Lance lit the candles and the warm but dim glow flooded the room once more, making sure to put out the match before it could burn his companion who still held his backpack. Thankfully he saw there were some more candles, something that looked like a washbasin, dust-covered chairs, and old furniture along with decorative fabrics draped along the walls. But best of all, there was a sizable cot in the corner, dust covered but usable.

“What is this?” Lance asked, wondering if it would be worth casting detect evil and good, though he already knew to note the one he was holding. 

“It's one of the old guard chambers. Pretty cozy but best of all it’s got a built-in ghost ward” Cecil replied, pointing at the runes that marked the threshold. He tried his best to drop Lance’s bag as gracefully as he could, but the momentum almost pulled him out of Lance’s hold as he did so, making him grab onto the cleric even more. 

“Why did they need a guard chamber?” Lance asked, looking around and shrugging Cecil’s bag and his sword off his shoulder. 

“You think all these spirits stayed calm for centuries because they wanted to?” Cecil answered with a lighthearted scoff. “Guards made sure that- nothing like those fuckers we just dealt with had a chance to form. We’ll be plenty safe in here but it seems the ghosts are having fun being unchecked.” 

“Yeah well dealing with them is just more fun for us” Lance replied with a smile, walking over to the cot still holding the vampire. It was old and decrepit but looked like one of the most comfortable things he’d ever seen in that moment. Still holding Cecil, he tried to brush off as much dust as he could, unfortunately brushing the cloud right into both of their faces. 

Lance coughed once or twice but Cecil instead let out a series of loud but controlled sneezes, and it was kinda hilarious.

“What was that?” Lance laughed as he placed Cecil up onto the cot. 

“Dust allergy” Cecil groaned as he fell back, hand still pressed to his stomach. “Being undead doesn’t stop everything natural y’know” he gave a strained laugh. 

“I guess not.” Lance slumped to the floor next to the cot, the adrenaline rush crashing and the injuries from the last few hours seeping into his tired bones. He felt like he could take a nap right there, and he began to close his eyes.

A moment later they shot open.

“Wait Cecil how are you feeling?” Lance turned around on his knees and looked down at the vampire. “You kinda look paler than normal.” 

“So I’m translucent now?” Cecil struggled to laugh without discomfort, something that set off the healer in Lance. 

“This is serious, where is it?” Lance asked, his voice firm with concern. Cecil sighed and dropped his hand from his stomach. 

“There’s no wound. They just took too much energy. It’s basically a giant bruise.” Cecil shifted, his voice tired and drained.   
Lance had only a small amount of divine energy left, enough for a final spell. 

“Here, let me heal you,” Lance said, placing a hand to Cecil’s chest. However, he felt a weak grip around his wrist. 

“W-wait...I should have told you this sooner but your healing spells only partially work on me.” He sat up so he could look Lance in the eye. “It’ll be wasted if you use it. You need to heal yourself up first, just in case something happens.” Cecil’s fingers closed atop Lance’s hand, gently pulling his hand off his chest but continued to hold it. Lance felt a wave of heartache wash over him. Now that he thought about it, he had recklessly healed Cecil earlier with spells he now realized wasn’t guaranteed to work on the undead. For all he knew, he could have hurt more than he helped. 

“Don’t look at me like that” Cecil said gingerly, cupping Lance’s face, his expression currently that of a hurt puppy. “You still helped me back in the library, don’t think you didn’t. I trusted that you wouldn’t hurt me. I just don’t want to use up your magic.” 

“What about your healing potions?” Lance looked away, reaching for Cecil’s bag with a caring urgency in his voice.  
  
“No no, we should save those for in battle.” Cecil redirected Lance’s attention back to him. “I’ll be fine with some rest. Eat something for now please, and take your armor off.” Cecil nagged, but his lighthearted voice made it hard to be annoying. 

“A-alright” Lance sighed reluctantly, squeezing Cecil’s hand softly before standing. First, he removed his armor, stretching out his arms and back, feeling the rush of cool air against his skin. He again wiped the sweat from his skin as best he could and sat to eat a set of rations, Cecil resting not too far from him. Lance couldn’t shake the thoughts eating at him. Even if Cecil would be alright, he was still in immense pain. Lance couldn’t help but feel useless. He did what Cecil requested and healed himself, fixing most of the damage from their last encounter, but with every pained moan and whimper that came from the vampire who shifted around in discomfort, Lance just felt like he had to do something to help him, anything. 

_“The best I can do is first aid but that won’t help at all. I can’t make him take a health potion, and we need those handy anyway. I just don’t want him to be in pain anymore.”_ Lance’s heartbeat a bit more, full of worry for his companion. Cecil. Smug, confident, flirtatious, infuriatingly attractive, good-hearted Cecil. At first, he had been a stranger, a creature Lance was confused yet intrigued by. But now they were here, keeping one another safe down to the last spell. Lance knew there was more to Cecil than met the eye, and he just wanted to see more. How had he become so enamored with a force of nature like Cecil was in such a short time? A quick-witted, cocky, reliable, kind vampire. 

_“_ Vampire, _”_ Lance said softly to himself, a realization dawning on him. He looked down at his hand and then looked up to where Cecil was laying.

“Lance?” Cecil groaned and sat up, feeling a weight shift on the cot. He saw Lance sitting on the side of the bed next to him. He still felt quite drained, his rest mostly consisting of falling in and out of a meditative state. Sometimes he really wished someone would knock him out cold just so he could sleep without dreaming. Though the hunger that had begun to plague him felt worse than any pain.

“Feeling any better?” Lance asked softly, his hand gently resting on Cecil’s leg.

“Hungry but I guess I can find a rat to snack on” Cecil joke trailed off into a groan. 

“You don’t have to do that” Lance took a deep breath. Strangely, he wasn’t anxious despite the fact his heart was beating quickly in his chest, it was nerves of course, but rather nerves of excitement. Lance pulled a small dagger from his belt. 

Cecil moved closer, sitting on his knees only a few inches from the Cleric. “What are you up to?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“This.” Lance grinned before slicing into his index finger, the blood pooling and dripping down the blade onto the curve of his hand. 

Cecil watched speechlessly. He rarely tasted fresh warm blood on his lips, so much so the scent of Lance’s fresh drawn blood made the pupils of his crimson eyes go wide. It was intoxicating to his senses, a flush forming on his cheeks. Cecil’s slow heartbeat sped up to the point he could almost feel it pounding in his chest. 

“Are you sure?” Cecil asked softly, his gaze transfixed on the blood running down Lance’s warm brown skin. In response, Lance moved his hand closer to Cecil’s lips.  
  
“Of course.” 

Cecil’s lithe fingers wrapped around Lance’s wrist and brought the freshly cut wound to his lips, taking it into his mouth. Lance felt a shiver up his spine and took a deep breath. A moment later a moan of pleasure slipped from the small vampire, the taste of fresh blood making him feel warm all over, already beginning to rejuvenate him. Cecil sucked the blood that was coming from the cut between his soft lips before a long pointed tongue wrapped around the wound, lapping at the blood that had run down the rest of the cleric’s hand. Cecil’s eyes had fluttered shut as he took in a hot breath and in slow languid movements, licked up every bit of rich red blood that dripped. Lance felt the sharp point of fangs against his skin as Cecil suckled at his finger again, the vampire’s grip tightening with another moan and shifting even closer into Lance’s space.

“I kind of wish I got to taste you sooner Lance,” Cecil purred, pulling Lance’s wrist away just enough to let the blood pool on his pale lips, the cut pressed against them. Lance felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe as he watched. He felt the heat rising in his neck and ears with every agonizingly slow moment that passed, his gaze fixated on the petite vampire. He had expected it to feel strange and had prepared himself for it. However, he was not prepared for the reaction he had, watching that stream of crimson run down from Cecil’s lips before his tongue gently wrapped around his finger again, eliciting another needy moan from his companion. 

“More, Lance I just need...a little more-” Cecil begged almost breathlessly, his grip around Lance’s wrist softening so he could bend Lance’s arm a bit closer, his lips and tongue making contact with the blood that had run to Lance’s wrist, his head moving with it. Lance caught sight of his blown pupils and the faint blush on Cecil’s pale skin. 

“You can take all you need.” Lance sighed, feeling more in control than he ever thought he’d be in this situation. He wanted to take care of Cecil, but he also wanted to see more of _that_ face. He was suddenly aware of how turned on he was and had somehow failed to realize he had gotten hard.

“Can I bite?” Cecil asked upon realizing the cut was beginning to close up as he licked up Lance’s index again, his eyes practically pleading. 

“Just a bit...” Lance found himself reaching out to cup Cecil’s cheek, but not in the innocent way he had done before. This time he slipped his fingers into Cecil’s hair, feeling it’s soft and silky texture between them as he held his head in place. 

“First time getting bit right?” Cecil asked, his body closing in on Lance’s, having practically crawled into his lap at that point. “Promise I’ll be gentle.” His tone and smile were full of coy mischief, which only made Lance grow firmer as the sets of fangs began to graze his index teasingly. 

It was common knowledge that a simple vampire bite caused no threat of turning, as that was a far longer and ardent process. It was simply a way to gain sustenance from something living or dead. However, a vampire bite could cause incredible damage, as Lance had seen when Cecil tore that Ogre’s throat out. What he had used was a second, more advanced set of vampire fangs, a small yet deadly transformation that only high-class vampires were capable of. But this bite, the gentle yet firm prick of Cecil’s dainty sharp fangs into the skin of his finger, it caused an entirely different reaction. It was a bite of consent, fueled by the attraction held between the two, tension coming to a boiling point. It flooded Lance with the sensation of pleasure that took him by surprise. Now it was his turn to let out a deep moan, the bulge in his pants now obvious. 

“Good. That's good.” Lance found himself praising Cecil as if it was second nature, his free hand dropping from Cecil’s face to pull him closer by his petite waist. “You-You really look more incredible than usual right now” He drank in the sight before him. He had been with all kinds of people before, but he didn’t think he’d ever experienced a need like this. 

Cecil placed a hand on Lance’s chest, his claws grabbing at the fabric of his tight undershirt and balling it in his fist as he felt his core growing weak, using the strong half-elf for support. He was intoxicated by Lance and Lance alone. This kind, handsome Cleric who had refused to abandon him, gracing him with that sweet smile and a hidden wit hidden along with his stupidly attractive face. But it wasn’t just simple attraction or the fact Cecil had promised him a reward that fueled this dance. Cecil was without a doubt a whore, a harlot, as it was at times a service that would bring in easy money and offered a sense of freedom. But since they had ventured down here, Lance had done nothing but try and keep him safe, showing Cecil's attention and care for reasons beyond his pretty face. He could trust him and to feel this secure, this needy, and so very wanting, it was a rare experience for the lonely little vampire.

Cecil didn’t drain the blood with his fangs, instead, he simply allowed the blood to drip from the little puncture marks he had created, only to make a show of consuming it. Their legs were touching, Lance's hand pressed around Cecil’s waist. The warlock dare not look away from those stunning green eyes looking at him with sinful adoration. He wanted to hear more praises, the sound of Lance’s warm, just deep enough voice making him melt like ice. He was no longer blushing, but only because all the heat had gotten to him in other ways. That being said, the obviousness of Lance’s cock in his pants made Cecil feel all too smug, knowing every bit of attention was on him at that moment, that he had this perfect boy wrapped around his thumb. That's when he pulled away. 

“Thank you Lance” He purred, pulling away this time, away from Lance’s touch, guiding his wrist back into Lance’s lap, brushing against his erection before pulling his hand back. “I feel so much better now.” He licked his lips one last time before he moved to get off the cot.

The loss of contact had pulled Lance from his daze just enough to realize Cecil was still having fun with this little dance. If he wanted to go forward, he would have to show Cecil he wanted him. Before Cecil got far, Lance reached out and his hands grabbed the vampire’s tiny waist, pulling him back in one swift motion as if he was weightless. Cecil found himself straddling Lance’s lap, legs over his thighs and pressed together without an inch of space to spare. All Lance could do at the moment was breathe heavily, taking in how enrapturing the vampire in his arms was. The curve of his collarbones revealed by the open shirt, the way his silver hair spilled over his shoulders and back, how his fingers were only a few inches away from each other around his waist. It was even easier to see the difference in their stature like this, and he couldn’t help but notice that Cecil’s boots were barely touching the ground. Even if Cecil had started this dance, Lance was determined to finish it.

“My my, something the matter darling?” Cecil asked, feigning coy with an innocent little smile, hand resting on his chest. 

“I-I keep letting you get away with stuff like this” Lance’s voice was low as his hand slowly snaked up Cecil’s back as the other dropped to Cecil’s thigh, squeezing just a bit hard.  
  
“Stuff like what?” Cecil tilted his head, the hand not on Lance’s chest moving behind his neck, his nails playing with his hair. 

“Teasing, this dance you keep pulling me into…” Lance leaned in, feeling how Cecil slyly moved his hips against him, causing another jolt of friction. 

“Then what are you going to do about it, Priest?” Cecil gave one last taunt before Lance pulled him forward and their lips met in a furious and needing kiss. 

* * *

Their first kiss was hot and wanting, lips parting nearly immediately as tongues brushed against each other. Cecil’s hands flew to Lance’s face to hold him there as he nibbled on his bottom lip, rocking his hips against the Cleric’s bulge that he felt pressed against him. Lance moaned as he felt the bite, only to retaliate by sliding his tongue into Cecil’s mouth in one fluid motion. He felt Cecil’s pointed tongue slot against his, and it was here they slowed and began to find their rhythm. The initial charge had simmered into a slow pace where they found how their bodies fit together. The warmth they created overtook them both, flooding their senses with the languid making out that drew moans from both men. They were constantly moving against one another, trying to form more friction as if it was an instinct. Cecil obviously knew how to use his snake-like hips to his full advantage. However, it wasn’t just Cecil putting in his skill. He might say it was a new side of Lance, but that simply wasn’t true. As Lance gripped his waist, Cecil felt himself go weak. The more care Lance showed the more he felt safe to let his guard down and entrust himself to Lance’s touch. 

It was then Lance’s lips dropped from Cecil’s and began to leave a trail of kisses down the vampire’s fully exposed neck. Cecil moaned and tilted his neck to the side to give him more room. He purred in anticipation, feeling kisses on his throat and collarbones, slowly getting closer down his chest. It was only when Lance trailed back up that Cecil felt the first hickey bitten into his skin, and to Lance’s satisfaction, it bruised so perfectly. 

“Do you like that?” Lance asked, repeating the action on Cecil’s collarbone, biting down again and feeling how it made Cecil melt. 

“Look who’s teasing now, asking me things like that,” Cecil replied, his hand moving down from Lance’s chest slowly, only to slide under the tight, high necked shirt. “Afraid I’ll sink my teeth into you?” 

“I don’t think I’d mind” 

“Then let's get this off” Cecil pulled up on the shirt, exposing Lance’s abs to his touch, but he had to get the rest of the shirt off before he could take him in. Apparently, he took too long as Lance dropped his grip just long enough to pull the top over his head and threw it somewhere. Now Cecil had free range to admire his body and every freckle, curve of muscle, and scattering of scars.

“Happy?” Lance grinned, his voice still so deeply laden in need it almost didn’t sound like him.

“Very.” with that, Cecil reciprocated, kissing Lance's neck, not biting down as Lance had done, but letting his fangs drag against his skin. He dragged his nails down Lance’s chest, feeling the dips and curve of his muscles, running a finger over his dark nipple eliciting a chill from Lance. 

There was a contrast of Cecil’s cold lips on Lance’s burning skin that was one of the strangest yet tempting sensations he’d ever felt. He loosened his grip around the vampire to give him more room to move and in doing so realized the buttons of Cecil’s shirt had become more undone than they already were from all the friction. He sighed deeply as he felt Cecil nibble his ear, and his curious touch found Cecil’s soft pale skin completely unmarked, immediately he wanted to change that. Lance pulled at the remaining two buttons that were visible, causing the white garment to slip off Cecil’s shoulders to gather at his elbows. Cecil’s bare chest was the same as the rest of his body, clearly never having been marked by the sun, completely free of any blemishes, unlike Lance whose skin was decorated with an array of freckles from his shoulders to his face to his back. His nipples were a pale, almost purple color, reminiscent of soft pink from when he was alive. Somehow the loss of clothing made him seem even smaller as Lance kept his arm firmly around him. Lance was also realizing maybe he had a strange transfixion on his size, but that was neither here nor there.

“What are you staring at?” Cecil cooed, his attention now on the Cleric that studied him, giving Lance a sultry smirk.

“You’re so small” Lance couldn’t help but reply, letting out a warm breath as his hand made contact with Cecil’s abdomen. He had no outlined muscles but it was firm to the touch, and his breath hitched when he realized his fingers touched as he held him there. His hand reached around the dip of Cecil’s bare waist, hands exploring the soft curves of his body before he pulled him closer with a hand to his back. Cecil watched, completely entertained as he spurred Lance on, gently playing with his hair. 

Lance leaned forward and kissed his chest, this time dipping to unchartered territory. The hand around Cecil’s side trailed upwards, his thumb pressed against Cecil’s nipple just as Lance’s kisses had moved down to his chest as well. As Lance’s tongue and teeth brushed against the sensitive spot, Cecil gave a satisfying inhale and shaky exhale, his grip in Lance’s hair tightening with a light tug. When he felt Lance’s grin against him with a smug laugh, any remaining ideas he held that made him think Lance might be experienced were decimated on the spot. He felt a wave of excitement as he thought about the past partners Lance would’ve had, and how he was determined to be the best. 

“Can you help me-” Lance began between kisses to Cecil’s neck “get this off?” He tugged at the corset-like leather belt around Cecil’s waist that was impeding his exploration and keeping the shirt from falling completely off. He thought he felt where there were a set of metal clasps but then he felt someone catch his wrist. He looked up to his undead lover in confusion. 

“Not yet” Cecil gave a soft kiss to Lance’s lips, being careful not to linger too long. “You’ve been patient for so long, can’t you wait a little longer to get me undressed?” 

Lance felt the urge to pray that this wasn’t Cecil’s way of calling it quits for now in an effort to further tease him, when he was so turned on it would begin to hurt. When he felt Cecil’s weight lift from his legs he feared the worst, wondering if begging would work. However much to his relief, Cecil got to his knees and without much effort, spread Lance’s legs apart. 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to leave you untouched for long” Cecil was looking up at him now, crimson eyes spelling mischief as Lance felt the drum of sharp nails on his clothed inner thigh, finding their way upward. The vampire grinned wide, flashing his sharp teeth yet again. 

_“Oh gods those are going around my dick”_ Lance thought in almost horrified realization, or was it a horny realization? He really couldn’t tell. 

“Don’t worry I know what I’m doing.” Cecil rubbed a circle into Lance’s thigh as if to reassure him. “I only use teeth on request”

“People request that?” 

“You’d be surprised”

 _“Noted”_

Lance watched breathlessly as Cecil leaned further into his legs, skillful fingers going to his belt with a click, the tension around his waist loosening followed by the sound of leather pulled from his belt loops. His heart was pounding as Cecil undid the buttons, going agonizingly slow as he pulled them open. 

Cecil felt his mouth water at the sizable bulge he saw beneath the thin cloth of his undergarment. He had to admit he was very happy Lance was apparently as big as he had felt when he was pressed against Cecil’s thighs. If he wasn't it wouldn’t have been a deal breaker, after all he wasn’t completely shallow, but it was a very hefty bonus.

Lance shuttered and let out a moan as he felt Cecil’s mouth against his clothed dick, leaving a few wet kisses and groans that vibrated against him. He was almost too afraid to look down and see that hypnotically attractive gaze. He just hoped he wouldn’t disappoint. 

After giving his little preview, Cecil pulled his mouth away and his fingers pulled down the last of the fabric.

Lance suddenly felt himself blushing as the final layer was pulled away, his cock standing fully erect meer inches from the grinning vampire. While he didn’t have too much hair, he had a trail that came up halfway to his belly button, other than that he kept himself well-groomed, for hygiene purposes of course. His cock itself was on the thicker side, and it had a perfect curve to it. Most importantly, he was far above average in size, so much so that his past partners hadn’t actually been able to take the whole thing. He felt a sudden shyness, hoping that wouldn’t cause issues here.

“You really are perfect, aren't you Priest?” Cecil’s voice was like a purr as his lips made contact with the shaft base as his fingers wrapped around the top, teasing at the head. He started off with slow languid movements, his lips making a course upwards, slicking his cock while he pumped simultaneously. However right before he made contact with the swollen head, he dropped back down, giving a bit of attention to his balls with a few kisses. Lance groaned at the burning sensation, unable to pull his eyes from the scene. Every flick of Cecil’s wrist pulled sensations up from Lance’s core, every teasing kiss making his heart beat faster. When precum began to leak from the slit, Cecil pulled back a bit to place a kiss to the head of his cock. Before Lance could react, Cecil’s tongue fell from his open mouth and wrapped around Lance’s cock, replacing his hand with a strong grip, and began to do the work of licking and pumping him while paying attention to the sensitive cockhead. By no means was this a normal move, but Lance was far from complaining. He had noticed the length and shape of Cecil’s tongue when he had drunk the blood from his finger and kissed him, but now was it making a noticeable difference. 

“F-fuck…” It felt _good_. Cecil was right, he knew exactly what he was doing. Fingers drummed between Lance’s thighs which only added to the ache. “Keep doing that. Please” 

Cecil just gave a pleasant hum in response, the vibrations going straight through him. It was almost funny that this could make the cocky little vampire be so nonverbal. He couldn’t see if Cecil was touching himself at all, but since he felt two sets of hands exploring his thighs and groin, he assumed not. However, if the vampire’s moans and gasps for air indicated anything, it was that he was enjoying himself immensely. Cecil complied with Lance’s plea and continued with his inhuman tongue. But then Lance felt all contact leave his cock. 

“Cecil? Everything oh- _Oh fuck!”_ Lance moaned loudly as Cecil took him in without warning, the wet moan that came from his companion making his heart beat faster. As Cecil’s head began to sink lower, swallowing in more of him, the icy hot sensation returned. Cecil’s skin may feel cool to the touch, but right now Lance was lost in his warmth. Cecil began to bob his head up and down as he swirled his tongue around the shaft. He teased the base of his cock, squeezing with the lightest of pressure. Lance saw how Cecil’s hair had fallen from its high ponytail to spill over his shoulder, leading to Cecil every now and again tucking his hair behind his hair as he moved his head. Lance ran his hand through Cecil’s gorgeous locks, combing them back from his face and holding it back between his fingers, allowing him to have a clear look at his beautiful face. His eyes were shut now as he concentrated, his cheekbones hollowed just the slightest as Cecil took in about a half of his length. 

This was around the time it would become too much for his partner and they would have to pull back, somewhat sputtering and gaging. It never annoyed Lance, ultimately wanting his partner to be comfortable. But he had yet to see any reaction of the sort from Cecil. 

“D-don’t hurt yourself okay- you don’t have to force yourself” Lance sounded almost innocent. Cecil paused a moment before he pulled off with a pop, eyes opening with a cocky glow. 

“Please don’t think you need to worry about me, darling,” Cecil replied with a lustful smile as if he had one more trick up his sleeve. It made Lance hold his breath. Before he could say another word, Cecil swallowed all of Lance’s cock into his throat without so much as a cough. 

The sensation made Lance tug back on Cecil’s hair instinctively, which would have made him feel horrible if Cecil hadn’t let out the most pleasured sounding moan from his full mouth. Lance watched as Cecil bobbed his head without hesitation, his cheeks hollow and the walls of Cecil’s throat pressing all around his cock. He felt only the slightest graze of teeth at the base but it just excited him further somehow. Without thinking, Lance had begun to control Cecil’s movements by his grip on his hair, bobbing him up and down. He felt an urge he intended to chase. 

Lance had felt his orgasm building from the moment Cecil’s tongue wrapped around his cock, but he had done a good job of keeping himself calm enough to not get overwhelmed. Never before had he been so thankful for having self-control. But when Cecil had swallowed every bit of him, he knew he was on borrowed time, his cock twitching and pulsing the more the vampire moved his head. That's why he had no qualms about beginning to thrust into Cecil’s throat himself. He did it once to see if Cecil had any adverse reactions, but the only he received was a moan and Cecil’s eyes demanding ‘ _Do That Again’._ It was experimental, but Lance just closed his eyes and let his instincts guide him. His thrusts met Cecil’s downward movements, making it feel like he had gone even deeper now. He did it only a few more times, the ache growing more and more unmanageable each time before he felt the final string of will snap. He pulled Cecil off with a final tug of his hair as he shot out a load of cum, some of it landing in his partners mouth but most of it going to coat his lips and chest. Both parties needed to catch their breath, Lance blushing hard while Cecil still had no color staining his cheeks. Lance’s eyes were almost completely closed except the one open just enough to watch Cecil lick the excess cum from his lips with a devious little smile. 

“Cecil...that was amaz-” Lance began through heavy breaths but before he could finish a finger was pressed to his lips. 

“Ah ah” Cecil purred, leaning in again with a smirk. “You don’t say that until we’re finished. That is, if you have more in you.” he sounded smug, as if he was expecting Lance to bow out right there. 

Lance looked back at him and a grin spread across his face, realizing what Cecil was getting at in his little taunt. He leaned up and grabbed at Cecil’s body, pulling him back against him. 

“Oh trust me, I’m not done with you yet.” He growled, any trace of innocence completely decimated by now. His cock was still semi-hard, and he knew he only needed a bit to rest and recover, his stamina far, far from drained. “But I earned this didn’t I?” He asked, pulling once again at the mocking leather garment around Cecil’s waist that was keeping him from his goal. 

“Yes, you did.” The vampire replied with a breathy arousal and a smile on his face. It was Cecil’s turn to feel a rush of pure excitement as Lance pulled the tight leather belt from around him. The rest of his shirt fell open and dropped to his wrists as Lance grabbed at Cecil’s hips, pulling him closer so Lance could continue his exploration, his rough hands running against his soft pale skin. 

“You said I’m small didn’t you?” Cecil asked as it seemed Lance was too busy to talk. “Do you like that?” He purred. 

“Yeah...” Lance was beginning to manhandle him on instinct as he palmed at Cecil’s thighs and ass. His legs weren’t exactly muscular, but they weren’t thin either, they were slender yet his thighs were just soft enough to squeeze. Lance quickly discovered his hand could firmly grasp almost his entirety of his thigh. Cecil’s ass was just as nice too. It was perfectly fitted to his slender hips, firm and easy to grab even while he still wore his leather pants. 

Cecil’s nails dragged over Lance’s shoulders and back in languid motions, feeling every dip and curve of his muscles. He hugged Lance’s head to his abdomen as he mused through his hair. Cecil was incredibly turned on but he did a better job of hiding it. Though he loved the way Lance’s big hands felt as they held his body.  
“You’re such a fucking tease” The cleric smirked as his fingers dipped into the waistband of the leather pants and began to work them off slowly due to the tightness and the material they were made of. 

“I know I am. I was waiting to see how long you were going to hold out.” Cecil stretched upwards, his guard down. It was then he felt the pants get pulled down to his knees in one swift motion before a strong grip spun him around and pulled him back down sharply onto Lance’s lap, his now bare thighs on Lance’s muscular legs. He wasn’t quite sure how that happened so fast. 

“Then consider this my last stand” Lance all but growled, giving a playful bite to his ear, sending a jolt through the former half-elf. One arm locked Cecil in place as Lance kissed the back of his neck and bit a mark into his shoulder, the other hand running between Cecil’s open legs, inching upwards. With back pressed to chest, Lance was able to see over him like it was nothing.

 _“He’s really attentive,”_ Cecil thought with a soft smile, allowing himself to relax in the snug embrace. At first, he tried not to think about where they were, for fear that bad memories would ruin their time. However, he was realizing it was quite the opposite. It felt way too good as if it was a subtle way of cursing his past. He didn’t feel the urge to push himself to tears at the hands of some faceless man. He didn’t need to be treated that way to feel alive, right now he was safe. Lance made him feel safe.

Lance gently turned Cecil’s head to meet him in a long deep kiss, sucking his bottom lip and letting their tongues slot together once again in their open mouth kiss. Cecil relaxed greatly and felt Lance’s hand travel higher as he kicked off his pants the rest of the way, leaving his lower half in black cloth shorts like the ones Lance wore, but the shirt remained hanging from his body like art in a frame. 

Lance’s hand traveled to palm at Cecil’s cock through the thin fabric as he kissed him. It fit perfectly in his grasp, glancing down as he pulled the other’s length through the opening in the shorts, pumping it gently as his hand was slicked with the other’s precum. It drew soft, pleasant moans from the other’s throat as they stayed locked in their kiss. Then, Lance’s hand moved upwards and dipped into the waistband of Cecil’s underwear. 

“Lance!” Cecil jumped suddenly which made the Cleric chuckle. “What's the plan here?” he asked, pulling away a bit as Lance rested his hand on Cecil’s ass. 

“What do you mean?” It was Lance’s turn to play coy with his own little grin. 

“I mean prep.” Cecil raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you were going to-” 

Lance started laughing. “Believe it or not I wasn’t born yesterday. I have what we need.” 

“Could’ve fooled me” Cecil rolled his eyes, waiting to see what Lance’s plan was. It was then Lance reached into his bag he had been carrying and retrieved a small bottle from a first aid kit. 

“Healing jelly?” Cecil asked as he recognized the bottle, he then looked to Lance with a smirk. “You’ve been prepared this whole time haven’t you?” 

“Prepared for medical emergencies, but it has other uses too.” 

Cecil got up and reached for the bottle himself, intent on taking care of it himself. Lance grabbed his wrist and pulled him down to his side again, taking the bottle in his hand and uncapping it. Cecil tilted his head. 

“What are you-”

“Come on, let me do this for you.” Lance’s voice was genuinely caring, wanting to take care of him. He was hard again and wanted to reciprocate for the first round. 

“Well if you insist” Cecil chuckled and then relaxed. It was a foreign feeling, but he welcomed it. 

Lance pulled the almost weightless vampire back into his lap. Lance kept his arm wrapped around Cecil’s waist and took a small amount of the clear oil-based jelly between his fingers. 

“Don’t think you have to be gentle.” Cecil smirked, pulling his briefs down himself.

“I figured” Lance pressed his fingers to his entrance, spreading the jelly around as he caught the other in a kiss. He teased gently before he slid a hooked finger inside of him which made the vampire gasp and jolt. Lance felt every bit of friction between them, adding more fuel to this raging fire. 

“Gods” Cecil moaned and shifted upwards so he had an advantage, pressing his knees into the cot to keep his balance. He slid his tongue deeper into Lance’s mouth as he felt Lance move in and out of him, not waiting long before he slid in another finger. It was a snug fit as Lance moved every bit with purpose to loosen him up. They rocked together like this, finding their rhythm. It was when Lance pushed a third finger inside Cecil tightened around him, groaning loudly and biting down on his lip. Lance was all too addicted to the vampire in his arms moaning loud and shamelessly. Cecil’s nails started to dig into Lance’s shoulders as he clutched onto him, breaking skin as Lance pressed against his sensitive spots. 

It was then Lance felt his back push up against the wall in one swift motion, his fingers slipping free. When he opened his eyes again, Cecil was hovering just above his cock, looking down on him with a hungry grin. The white shirt still hung from Cecil’s body as he firmly gripped Lance’s shoulder, his legs straddling both sides of the cleric.

“I think that’s plenty of foreplay, priest.” He laughed and pressed a thumb to Lance’s bottom lip. “My turn.” Cecil dragged his thumb across the cleric’s parted lips. 

Lance tightened his hold around Cecil’s waist. 

Cecil felt Lance’s cock pressing against the curve of his ass as he lowered his hips. 

Lance held his breath as he felt his cock rub against the slick entrance as if Cecil was trying to torture him further. He grabbed Cecil’s firm ass but it did little to advance him forward. He then remembered something in the corners of his still functioning mind. 

“H-hey do we have-” 

“Don’t need it. Neither of us can catch anything. Besides, I _need_ to take you raw” Cecil whined into Lance’s ear. Good enough answer for him. 

“Just stop teasing me.” The second grip on Cecil’s waist squeezed hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Nicely.” 

“Please Ceece?”  
“Good boy” Cecil whispered with a final kiss to Lance’s ear as he finally took Lance inside of him. 

Cecil moaned as he felt Lance enter him, his teeth biting down on his lips drawing the smallest bit of blood that he soon licked off himself. Lance however all but called out in pleasure, the cry stifling in his throat as he forced his mouth shut, not wanting to embarrass himself. 

“You don’t have to be quiet” Cecil grinned, letting his own soft moan escape his lips as he took him in deeper before he started to bounce his hips at a slow but methodical pace

“F-fuck…” Lance groaned, tilting his head back as he grabbed at the small vampire’s body, holding him firm. It was like an entirely new sensation. It was just that he was normally the one in control, choosing the speed and intensity. Now, he was simply putty in Cecil’s hands as he controlled their every movement. He was tight, Lance’s cock being squeezed tight he went deeper, his hand running along Cecil’s curves and up to his chest, feeling his soft, smooth skin now slicked with a layer of sweat. 

Cecil felt Lance brush against that knot of pleasure deep inside, letting out a small series of gasps and whine as every little touch was made. He allowed Lance to explore his body just as long as he didn’t try to keep him still, as Cecil wanted to play his game of dragging the cleric to the brink of pleasure before pulling it away again. It was just another way to tease and make him be patient. Though he had to admit, with how perfect Lance felt inside of him, he was finding self-control to be an issue. 

“Feel good?” Cecil asked in a soft low voice, his fingers combing through Lance’s hair. 

“You’re still teasing me” Lance chuckled and tightened his grip around Cecil’s waist, the response making the vampire grin wide in sudden excitement. Just what did this Cleric have in store for him? 

“It seems I’ve been caught” Cecil sighed before he gave Lance a hard shove, creating more distance between the two, though he still clung to Lance’s shoulder with one hand. “Guess I’ll kick it up a notch” 

Cecil raised his hips up so much so that Lance almost pulled out entirely. In the next second he slammed his body down and took Lance down to the hilt, the both of them unable to contain their gasps that followed. Cecil only took a few moments to adjust, wanting to constantly be reminded of the feeling of being utterly filled. His hand dropped from Lance’s shoulder to his bicep, his inner thighs now trembling as he took deep breaths. The cock inside him was pressed perfectly against that knot of pleasure, flooding his senses with euphoria. He felt warm all over, but there still wasn’t any blush to show for it. His own cock twitched with every jolt that ran through his body. Yes, he had given up control of their little dance, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He trusted Lance. 

Lance wanted to remember the exact way Cecil looked above him just now. Hair spilling down as his lithe body shook, claws grabbing at him as if he needed to hold onto something. His lips were parted as he gasped for breath, crimson eyes fixated on him. 

“Fucking- oh god Ceece…” Lance moaned as he felt his own bout of pleasure spike through him. He was all the way inside, and now he just wanted to _move_. 

As if Cecil knew just what Lance needed, he began to ride him, hard and fast and utterly shameless. His hips burned with exertion, as this was no simple movement, but he didn’t care. The slap of skin against skin mixing with their moans. Lance thrust in and out, matching with the petite vampire’s movement. He ran his thumbs up Cecil’s stomach as the vampire arched back, hair falling down his back as he continued to bounce on the Cleric’s cock. While Cecil loved a challenge when it came to size, Lance was the perfect fit for someone of his stature. It filled him while giving him the ability to move as he wanted, taking him in deep every single time as he drank in the look on the Cleric’s face. 

“C-come here” Cecil pulled Lance up and kissed him deeply, not slowing his movements even a bit. It turned into more of Cecil trying to hold his moans back as their tongues pressed against each other, Lance’s hand back in his hair. When he dropped to kiss the other’s throat, he felt the reverberations of Lance’s grunts and heavy breathing against his lips. Lance clutched his waist tighter, only needing one arm to do so as he leaned back on the other, allowing himself to watch the show.

 _“I’m way too close...but I don’t want to stop moving…”_ Cecil’s lust addled mind was trying all it could to hold on, wanting to make Lance climax again before he did. He had absolutely let his guard down, but in the end that was his fault. He felt good, he felt happy. 

“It’s getting w-way too much,” Cecil said aloud, not seeing how Lance’s ears perked up. With a smile on his face, he wrapped his hand around Cecil’s dick and jerked him off along with the rhythm Cecil rode him. 

“Feel good?” Lance smirked, making sure Cecil could see the cockiness in his expression. 

“You little bastard” Cecil laughed, knowing Lance was giving his words right back to him, and it was insanely hot. 

“I know” Lance only had to thrust his hips up once, making Cecil’s orgasm rip through him, cum coating both their stomachs as they were pressed together. Cecil went momentarily limp and fell against Lance’s chest, still feeling him inside, still hard. 

Lance needed to catch his breath as well. He was still deep inside and the tension in his gut had yet to snap. He wanted to keep going but knew his partner would need to rest. 

“I didn’t… say to stop…” Cecil’s soft voice demanded only a short moment after he had come down. He looked up at Lance and his eyes still burned, the vampire somehow sitting upright after he had been limp not moments ago. 

“Who said I was going to?” Lance grabbed Cecil’s hips before he could even think to move. Almost effortlessly, he lifted Cecil up off him and turned him around so chest pressed to back again. With not an ounce of protest, he pulled the vampire back down onto his fully hard dick, eliciting a hiss of delight from his partner. He felt Cecil attempt to raise his own hips but he pinned him back down with his firm grip around his body. 

“Like I said, you’re tiny,” Lance growled, kissing the back of his neck before he started to thrust just as he did before into the petite vampire, who was still recovering from his own orgasm. Lance decided now was the time to pull the white shirt still draped around Cecil off his body in one quick motion, placing it on the bed next to them. Cecil was still tight but less so than before, which meant Lance didn’t have to worry about being careful with him. Cecil was so light that he simply held him up as he rammed in and out at his own pace. 

Cecil let out a loud whine and threw his head back, his body arching against Lance’s. The feeling in his gut sent warmth through his whole body once more, not giving a second thought to the noises he was making. 

“FUCK!” He cursed as Lance hit him in his abused spot as if he was a drill, his arms reaching back behind Lance’s head to pull his lips down to him. Their kiss was complete hunger now, just trying to get as much of the other as they could. Lance took this as the moment to begin the second part of his plan. 

Cecil felt himself get lifted off of Lance’s dick almost entirely. His throat burned with a demand to know what he was doing, but before he got the chance, he was pulled back down to meet Lance’s thrust, hitting him in the perfect spot again. Cecil melted as if he had not a single bone left in his body.

Lance grabbed under Cecil’s legs and pulled them to his chest, folding the vampire into himself and holding him like that to fuck into him, controlling their movements with a mix of desire and care. Cecil’s arms remained looped around Lance’s neck as if it was his single tie to this plane. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to lose himself so completely, trusting the other entirely to take care of him. Sometimes that was the whole point of it, but not now, not with this sweet cleric of his. Even when Cecil felt disgusted with himself after the fact, he never let it cross the line where whoever had his way with him could feel as if he owned him. If someone had just as much uttered the word ‘Mine’, Cecil would feel his flip switch, immediately filled with a sense of anger, which threatened to make him lash out. Ultimately he was in control no matter how much he degraded himself. But for once in however long, he wasn’t on edge. 

Was this what it felt like to be with someone who thought of more than just himself? To be with someone who cared about him beyond what spoils he offered?

“So you were hiding this behind that godly persona?” Cecil asked with his famous level of snark, biting down on his finger as he looked to Lance with only one eye open.

“Hey, I never claimed to be a holy man” Lance chuckled. “Is the vampire enjoying himself?” 

“Be careful. You don’t want me getting hungry again do you?” 

“If it keeps you like this you can bite me as much as you want,” Lance grunted with a deep chuckle, dragging his finger into Cecil’s mouth as if to tempt him. 

It was when Lance’s thrusts slowed that Cecil purred, bending his back again.

“Getting overwhelmed?” he asked with a soft airy moan. 

“You feel way too good- There would be something wrong with me if I didn’t feel like this.” Lance was indeed close again, trying everything he could to keep his urges subdued hoping to prolong this as far as he could. He kept thrusting hard into him, having released Cecil’s legs, allowing him to bounce along with the thrusts. Lance’s grip around him kept his core steady. Cecil had already dry orgasmed a few times during this, his dick slow to recover but the rest of his body awash with pleasure. He wanted to keep this up until Lance was just as satisfied as he. 

The quick synced movements built-up tension fast and before Lance knew it, it had become unbearable. 

“Ceece I can’t…” His voice was deep and warm. 

“Inside…” Cecil gave a soft wanton moan, coaxing Lance to do just what he had wanted. 

Lance kissed him again, deep and unrestrained as he gave a last thrust, releasing inside. Cecil threw his head back onto Lance’s shoulder as he clenched around him, the warmth filling him up as a final soft whine escaped him. Lance pulled out shortly and fell back onto the cot. However, his arms were still wrapped around Cecil, pulling him back onto the bed with him, the two pressed against each other as they both caught their breath. 

“That was...incredible” Lance finally breathed out with a laugh in his voice. “Holy shit…” He ran his hand through his hair before looking over to the vampire, who he still kept his arm around. “Wanna go again?” 

That’s what made Cecil laugh aloud, rolling over to face Lance, his long hair still draped over his back.

“As much as I want to say yes, I’m afraid if we continue-” Cecil rolled over to place his hand on Lance’s chest, looking at him with a soft yet mischievous gaze. “-we aren’t going to get any rest. But...” he leaned in to whisper into Lance’s ear. “When we get out of here I’d love to do this little dance again.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Lance replied as he looked to him, his heart beating in his chest so hard Cecil could probably effortlessly feel it under his palm. He knew he didn’t want this to be a one time thing, but he could think about that later. “Hey, are you still hungry?” Lance asked, resting his arm behind his head as he looked up at the vampire. 

While he wasn’t starving or desperate to heal, the amount of energy they had both exerted had left him feeling peckish to say the least. 

“Are you sure?” Cecil asked softly. 

“Positive.” Lance brought one arm down and craned his neck to the side. “Just don’t turn me, kay?” He laughed softly, feeling the adrenaline crash coming fast. 

“Wouldn’t think of it” Cecil’s nails ran up Lance’s chest, resting on the side of his throat. If he listened closely he could hear Lance’s heartbeat in the air around their close space, filling the small room they had made theirs for that night only. 

Cecil’s fangs revealed themselves as he opened his mouth. They were his normal set, much to Lance’s relief. He closed his eyes as he felt them graze his neck, and then they pierced his skin. 

It didn’t hurt. He wondered if it was designed to not hurt or if it was because his euphoric post-sex brain was malfunctioning. Either way, it was a momentary pinch followed by a flood of warmth through his body. His heartbeat quickened, keeping his eyes closed and breathing steady. He always thought this would be terrifying, that his first bite coming from an undead would be in a battle of life or death. Instead, he felt so relaxed he felt himself slipping into sleep.  
Lance’s blood was like a sip of ice water, cold, refreshing, quenching a deep thirst. Cecil was careful to not take too much, just enough warm blood to satisfy him. He pulled away, a drop of blood running from the corner of his mouth as he looked down at his ‘prey’. Lance gazed back up at him with lidded eyes and a smile, reaching up to cup his cheek, wiping the drop of blood away with his thumb. His neck wound had already stopped bleeding, though he made a bit of a show of licking his blood off his thumb as he brought it back to his mouth. 

“Still tastes like copper to me”  
“It's an acquired taste,” Cecil replied before he started to move off the cot. 

“Where are you going?” Lance asked, reaching out and catching Cecil’s wrist before he got far. 

“Oh I figured I’d just go clean up.” Which was exactly what he was going to do, however, he hadn’t planned on returning to bed. After all, he normally got kicked out after the others got what they wanted.

“Oh okay, you’re coming back though right?” Lance asked, clearly fighting off sleep now. 

Cecil tilted his head before he realized Lance’s point. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right back”

Cecil reflected on what just happened as he poured the water down his face and chest. For the first time he'd been in these stupid catacombs, he had felt truly at ease, all because of Lance. He had expected Lance, like most other men, to just take what he wanted without any concern or second thought. Cecil felt stupid now that he thought about it, why would a guy willing to go through undead infested catacombs to help protect a virtual stranger suddenly become cold and selfish in bed? He no longer felt the urge to...to resort to _that_ in order to make himself feel better. Lance had made him feel safe, cared for, and for once he could let himself be taken care of without having his guard up. The vampire smiled to himself as he relaxed into the comfortable warmth he had been allowed. 

After he had finished cleaning himself off at the washbasin, connected to the water pumps for the castle, He redressed in only his white shirt and underwear, pulling his hair into a bun before he walked back to where Lance was asleep. He expected he would be closed off, rolled over onto his side, leaving only a bit of space for the vampire to even try laying down. But instead, Lance had left plenty of room for him, arm splayed across the top of the bed. Cecil smiled softly, realizing he hadn’t gone forgotten and laid down too. He didn’t need to sleep, but regardless he closed his eyes. Lance pulled Cecil into an embrace, holding him almost protectively. Cecil listened to the drum of Lance’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is me calling myself out and I hope you enjoyed the ride because it's about to get angsty.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Any feedback would be amazing and please send it around if you know anyone who would like it!
> 
> Hit me up at @gaycalculator on Tumblr! If you wanna about the story it for whatever reason, please use the #Ghosts of Aetroth tag so I can see it!
> 
> I commissioned @xuune on Tumblr for this piece! Please go check them out!
> 
> https://gaycalculator.tumblr.com/post/638314850365374465/posting-this-com-from-xuune-separately-so-i-can


	7. Grievances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a 'morale boost', our heroes follow the path of the amulet to find where Zetta rests, but the tragic history of this castle runs even deeper below the bedrock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Graphic Violence  
> Mentions of Abuse

Lance squinted the sleep from his eyes and felt his tight muscles momentarily ache as he awoke from the long rest he took after he crashed the night before. He rolled his neck out, and he couldn’t get over how sticky he felt, from the sweat of course. He let out a groan. 

“Good morning sleepyhead” Cecil was already dressed and sitting at the end of the cot, reclined back with crossed legs, and reading his leather-bound book. “Welcome back to the living.” He seemed to laugh at his own joke, flipping his long hair over his shoulder with a small toss of his head. He looked great, apparently free from the aches Lance was feeling. 

“Can’t you let me sleep more?” Lance fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes as if he was promising to do just that. 

“It seems I wiped you out more than I thought” Cecil chirped and nudged Lance with his barefoot. “But that’s no excuse, after all, I’m awake after you took me through the wringer.”

“O-oh yeah I guess that’s fair” Lance sat back up and chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck again. 

Lance blushed hard upon remembering everything they did the prior night, and it didn’t take long for him to look down to see the marks left. The color that had flooded onto his cheeks showed that powerful bought of cocky confidence he had before apparently gone now. His facial expression was that of a man trying to figure out what to say. Cecil thought it was cute, he would have been hurt if the true Lance had been lost forever.

“About that...I-I I’m sorry if I got a little carried away a-and…” He rubbed his neck, not sure if he was gonna be able to look directly at Cecil as if the sight of the other would blind him. His last hookups had been quick and fast, not even spending the night most of the time. But he and Cecil were closer than just a passing exchange in the night, and he really hoped he hadn’t made things awkward. 

Cecil cut him off with a kiss to the cheek, his nails cupping the side of his face. “Why are you apologizing?” he brushed his fingers through Lance’s damp hair “If you think you can do better, I welcome you to try when we make it back to Magnus.” He leaned back to continue reading “Though do you think that was a proper morale boost darling?”

Lance blushed hard again but smiled back. “Well, I’m definitely ready to get back in the action. Starting with a trip to the washbasin.” He got out of bed and pulled his pants back up. He took a washcloth, hoping to clean up as best he could including his pants which he should have taken off in retrospect.

“Have fun.” Cecil laid back as soon as Lance got up, nestling into the warmth the cleric had left behind, hair spilling all over the pillow. 

Seeing Cecil steal his spot without a care in the world with a smile on his face told Lance everything would be fine. 

Lance had been successful in cleaning up properly, much to his relief as he shook out the water from his hair. His pants had survived. Returning to the main chamber, he was able to start following his loose routine while he stole glances at the other. 

“Any idea what we’ll encounter as we go on?” Lance asked, thinking of what might be beyond the barrier. Wraiths were scary sure, but he thought about any number of ghosts, monsters, and whatever might be hungry just waiting down the stairs for them. 

“I’m not sure. Though since we’re getting closer to mass tombs, we’ll probably start to see ghosts” Cecil replied, moving his legs to the floor where he reached for his heeled boots.“If that's the case you should be careful, there's no telling what they might do when they see a priest.” 

“Didn’t realize I’d be a hot commodity” 

“I’m serious Lance. I don’t want you to get hurt” Cecil sounded concerned in a way, and Lance saw how he looked at him with something akin to affection. 

“If I can help them I have to. It’s my duty.” Lance replied, thinking of the souls that wanted to still be saved from their fate. But his gaze softened before he stood to move over to the small vampire. “But I know you’ll have my back.”

“Yeah yeah of course I do.” Cecil stood up and grinned at him, playfully hitting him on the chest and pushing his breastplate into his hands “Now get your armor on, let's get out of here” 

Lance couldn’t help but notice Cecil was even smaller now, standing up without any heels on.

“You’re even smaller like this you know” He had a smug teasing grin, leaning down into Cecil’s space. 

“Oh shut up” Cecil couldn’t help but laugh as he pushed back a little, moving around the Cleric and leaving the armor in his hands.

Lance started to gear up as Cecil finished pulling on his boots and the leather belt around his waist. 

“You know I can’t believe you aren’t still sore” Lance commented as he strapped the armor around his legs. 

“Well I got a good night's sleep” Cecil replied, lacing his boots up tightly.

“You slept?” Lance tilted his head, under the impression Cecil didn’t need to sleep.

“Couldn’t help it, you’re pretty comfortable after all.”

“O-oh thanks” The Cleric blushed softly, realizing Cecil had also enjoyed what had come after.

He just was oblivious to how much Cecil had enjoyed it, how much it had helped.

Lance had finished gearing up while Cecil finished packing up, his hair now tied high above his neck as he did before. To Lance’s satisfaction, he still had the mark he left on the back of his neck. Part of him wanted to just grab and kiss him again, but there would be plenty of other moments for that when they got back to the surface. He would see this mission through no matter what, and hopefully, he could stay by Cecil’s side when they had returned to Magnus, even if just for a little longer. His gaze stayed on Cecil as he opened up the door to their safe house ready to face whatever was on the other side. 

\--

_“Curse you! Curse you all to hell! ” The man chained to the ground spat at the Vampiric lord. He had been caught trying to assassinate Lord Domik by slipping in during daybreak, a time where even vampires in Aetroth were not safe from the sun's rays and few would be able to move freely. Though he had not been informed that the Lord kept a number of mortal guards on hand. An oversight on his part really._

_“Come now, you don’t expect I’ll let you live do you?” the Lord mocked “I mean, you didn’t surrender, you refuse to say who hired you, I must get some excitement from this little incident!” He laughed aloud._

_“I may be a murderer of the most cold-blooded degree but I don’t break deals or snitch.”_

_“And you’re willing to give your life for this person? Please if she’s holding something over you it’s a bluff.”_

_The man’s first mistake was a show of recognition at the word She, and though he did not respond-_

_“So it is a she.” The Lord chuckled again in delight. The white-haired courtesan next to him took notes, acting as a dutiful scribe. “She wouldn’t go through the trouble. Now, tell me who she is and I’ll let you go.”_ _  
__The scribe closed his eyes and there was a choking sensation in his throat. He’d seen this play out again and again, always with the same outcome._

_“...Are you serious?” The assassin asked with just a drop of hope in his voice._

_“Who is it.”_

_“...Lady Lenore” He responded after what felt like hours of silence. The scribe swallowed hard, not bearing to watch yet another death._

_“That banshee I see, Domik chuckled to himself. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even offended. He was entertained. Purely entertained, such as the way the game was played. “Well, thank you very much. Idris, release him.” then, under his breath with a sadistic grin. “Make sure you watch it all. Get the details accurate.”_

_The scribe had no choice but to open his eyes and see the ax come down on the unchained man’s neck, lopping it off like a watermelon. The man was still in the middle of giving his thanks._

_“Now that that’s dealt with, take the corpse to the kitchen, and take the bones below. He’ll serve me now in more ways than one.” The lord cracked his knuckles and stood from his throne, opening the chamber to the Catacombs. He looked to his courtesan._

_“Pen an invitation to Lady Lenore, invite my old friend to dinner.”_

_“I’ll send it by way of raven, it should arrive by nightfall.”_

_The Vampire lord reached out to his courtesan’s hair, running a white lock between his fingers. The courtesan said nothing, only waited._

_“And have your maid do something different to your hair, it’s so plain when It’s down like that.”_

_“Yes, master.”_

_\--_

“Ugh, I got it in my mouth!” Lance groaned, pulling strands of spider webs from his face after he had once again walked headfirst into a network of cobwebs. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so tall, ever think of that?” Cecil replied with a smirk to himself as the two descended another staircase. 

“Good idea, maybe I’ll just cut my feet off” Lance scoffed, though all in good fun. “But seriously what's with vampires and staircases?” That made Cecil laugh.

“Simply a testament to how old this place truly is. The chambers we passed earlier, those were tombs built for Domik’s most trusted comrades and allies. They all got their own tombs where he would pack their chamber with treasured possessions. While some of them were here long before I even stepped foot inside, I knew many of them as well.” the vampire chuckled. “They were a pretty fucked up bunch really.” 

“So now we’re getting to where the servants are buried?”  
“Yes. Honestly, this place should be crawling with angry spirits, but you can thank the guards for keeping that under control. If they hadn’t been down here well, we’d be dead at the doorstep. They purged the ghosts and specters down here time after time but since everything went to shit no one’s been on cleanup duty.” 

“But we can reason with the ghosts, can’t we? They wouldn’t have much of a reason to hurt us right?” 

“I can’t say that for certain. You’re a cleric and they’re going to want nothing more than to get free from here, and me well-” Cecil scoffed at himself and Lance could see the poignant expression on the vampire's face in the glow of the fire. “I doubt they’ll be happy to see their dead master’s favorite pet just walking around down here. I wasn’t the most popular concubine in the place” He said as if it was something he was proud of, but Lance knew that wasn’t true. 

“Cecil? What-” Lance froze mid-sentence, the rest of his question balancing on his tongue. But he had caught himself. He couldn’t ask something like that, not just out of the blue. But still, he couldn’t help but think: _“What did he do to you?”_

“Don’t worry about it. But we should both worry about the spirits of the assassins who got beheaded. They’re gonna be pretty pissed.” Cecil chirped without a care as he hit the bottom of the staircase. 

Lance looked into the crystal illuminated caverns and it was obvious this is where servants came to rest. Permanently. Bones rested in their own pockets in the walls with scattered about rudimentary markers displaying the names of whoever laid there. It was clear this wasn’t done with actual respect, more of an easy way to catalog them, alphabetically it seemed.

“Only the lucky ones got their names remembered. It made reanimation easier. If you take a closer look the ones with marked graves are still intact, easy to make them undead soldiers.”

“Why keep the ones that couldn’t be reanimated then?” 

“I guess he saw it as some kind of collection.” Cecil sounded all too grim and the very thought sent a chill up Lance's spine upon realizing they were surrounded by the dead. “We shouldn’t have to worry about any zombies. They were kept back in the first chamber.” 

“Well, that's a comforting thought” Lance groaned as he looked at a wall of wrapped up bodies. “Where do we go from here?” 

“That's what we let this amulet help us with” Cecil gestured to the pendant around his neck, taking it between his fingers. “I knew the way to her grave once before. This amulet will help me remember the way.” Standing in front of a series of entrances, Cecil closed his eyes.

The pendant began to glow as he concentrated. In his mind’s eye, the path began to sketch itself out, though it wasn’t a direct path. Cecil figured they needed to get closer for it to guide them further than the last point. But for now, the path was clear. 

“That way” Cecil closed his eyes and pointed down one of the corridors. 

“That thing can get us out again right?”

“I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t” 

“Thank the gods” 

The two began to follow the pathway laid out by the amulet’s magic. Lance relied on Cecil, on account of the fact he couldn’t see the path himself. Walking with his arms behind his head, having grown used to the bodies around him, he sighed. 

“You know, this kinda reminds me of when my dad taught me how to track. I was always so confused when my dad and the others just seemed to know the path to dinner. Then I learned how much actually went into it.”

“You know I still find it hard to believe you became a cleric of all things. You grew up as a nomad, so that stuffy temple life must’ve been torture.”

“Well, it wasn’t all bad. I was only there for a few months anyway. And running water wasn’t so bad either.” 

“We rarely ever had Clerics or Paladins pass by that temple. But honestly, I always got excited when they did. It was a fresh face at the very least.” 

“Heh yeah, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t popular when I was there. Probably for that reason though.” 

“Oh were you?” Cecil looked back to him with a mischievous little grin. “A bad boy with divine powers rolls into the temple and suddenly panties are dropping.” 

“No no it wasn’t like that” Lance laughed “I think they were just excited to meet someone with so many different stories. The little Acolytes loved when I told them stories about my Caravan, even if the priests gave me some dirty looks.”

“Do you miss it? The Caravan I mean” Cecil asked, this time his gaze softened. 

After a few moments, Lance answered. 

“Yeah. I do.” He missed taking care of the animals and watching the little ones, keeping them out of danger. He missed the smell of a campfire and Foragers stew that always smelled and tasted amazing regardless of what they put in it. He missed sleeping under the stars. He missed his mom. But he didn’t know if there was ever anyway for him to return home. “But I can’t go back...I don’t even know if I’d be able to find them again if they’re still around...” Lance’s voice had grown quiet, almost haunted. The wounds were still too fresh. 

“What did you do after you left?” Cecil asked as they turned a corner, noting the change in Lance’s voice. 

“Well after I left I ended up meeting my best friend actually. He caught me trying to steal oats for the horses to feed myself and decided the better idea was to pull me inside where his mom could give me a good meal. They housed and fed me and got me back to proper health and I stayed with them for a while. But then the two of us decided to try and find our own paths in life and set off together. He went to train with a swords master and I tried to put some of my other skills to use in helping out traveling parties.” 

“So how was it I ended up meeting Lance the Cleric instead of Lance the rogue?” Cecil couldn’t help but think of his friend Ira, a woman who had tried to rob him in an alley and ended up as one of his most trustworthy friends. Even if she was an opportunistic thief, they trusted each other. And that was all that mattered at the end of the day wasn’t it?

“Well turns out I was a pretty lousy rogue, apparently I was always too worried about helping people rather than getting the reward from the job.”  
“That sounds like you” 

That made Lance smile as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I screwed up missions wherever I went, I started to get a little infamous actually...because of that it was kinda hard to eat sometimes. But I would’ve rather begged for my dinner than hurt someone for it.” 

_‘Hurt someone again’_ A voice in his head hissed, reminding him. 

“Well, it’s good to know there are some noble people out there still. Not that I claim to be one of them.”

“Based on that gambling story I’m inclined to agree” Lance snorted “But, really I didn’t know what I was going to do… I spent a lot of time just moving around and trying to get work. My best friend and I always had each other’s back once he returned from training and we were able to find success in small ways in our little team, but it was by chance I met the Cleric who guided me to the temple. It’s kind of stupid actually” he chuckled and scratched his neck.

“Please as if being called to the priesthood could ever be stupid!” Cecil feigned shock at such a ‘callous’ statement with a dramatic gasp. “What drew you to the holy light of justice?” 

Lance couldn’t help but snicker at Cecil’s little show. Given he had heard so many clerics recount their godly call to duty as if it was the most awe-inspiring thing to say surrounded by those of the same profession. 

“Well see, I’ve always felt this connection to some kind of power inside me. My mother was a Cleric and they say sometimes parents will pass the connection to their god through their children. None of my siblings had this connection as far as I can tell- I mean it's super rare but well… seems I had the gift y’know. Maybe it was because of our bond or something…” Lance trailed off as if he was in thought before shaking his head, throwing his hands up as if to clear away the tangent “Anyway anyway! So you know that little trick I showed you with your name.”

“Right” Cecil nodded along.

“Well when you do those kinds of tricks outside a Tavern in Ravenport while drunk while your buddy tries to drum up money, you might get yelled at by a traveling Cleric with a stick up his ass. But when he realized I wasn’t actually a cleric he decided it was best to pull me to the nearest temple because I absolutely shouldn’t be able to do what I just did.” 

Cecil couldn’t help but cackle aloud at the mental image of Lance getting pulled through the streets of Ravenport, Magnus' capitol city, in the middle of the night by a pissy Cleric. 

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah! This old dude thought I was like spitting on the gods just by doing some tricks so he tried to get his boss to yell at me for it. Oh man, Damien was so confused.” 

“So is that what made you want to join this group? Harassment from an old guy?” 

“Well, that's just it.” Lance’s laughter died down after a moment. “Turns out the head priest of the temple of Enrasil knew my mother, from her days in service. When he realized I was given her gift he offered to have me train and follow in her legacy. When I realized I would have a better chance of getting to actually help people and save them with my powers...well it seemed like this was the call I needed. So I joined.” 

The pair was quiet for a moment, Cecil feeling like he understood Lance better now. He just wanted a place where he would find belonging, where he wasn’t looked down upon just for having a kind heart. But he still had a question. 

“Why did she leave?” Cecil asked, wondering why such a woman would leave her duty.

“For love. But sometimes I wonder if she still felt that way.” Lance replied. His mother had fallen in love with his father and the Caravan’s nomadic and carefree lifestyle. He didn’t know how long she had been in the service of Enrasil and the other Deities, but he couldn’t blame her for wanting a change.

“Like I’ve said Lance, I know you’re making her proud. After all, you’ve done a good job of keeping me alive so far.” Cecil accompanied this with a soft smile and touch to Lance’s cheek. Lance couldn’t help but blush as he put his hand over Cecil’s. 

But then the moment was completely ruined by the clattering of chains and an enraged shriek. A specter was flying towards them. 

“Oh great” Cecil rolled his eyes and pulled his hand away, charging an eldritch blast in his hand and aiming dead ahead at the spirit flying towards them down the hall. Lance shut one eye as the bright beam rocketed forward, making a deadset impact on the specter, destroying it with just one blast. Cecil lowered his hand with a smirk. 

“Nice shot” Lance pumped his arm triumphantly.  
“It's not over yet.” Cecil flipped his hair before he and lance charged forward, knowing full well they were going to be met by more specters further into the chamber. “Let’s deal with them quickly” 

Lance charged a guiding bolt in his hand knowing that his sword wouldn’t be of much use against them, but the radiant energy would cut through them like butter. 

Three specters rushed from their lingering spots, the one aiming for Lance only to be met with a powerful bolt which just as before, vaporized the specter. Lance saw the ghostly claws reach out to him, threatening to dig past his armor and rip from his very spirit. But Lance stood firm and though it stung, he felt no energy drain from his body. This left one of the Specters vulnerable to Cecil’s attacks. 

“I’m getting real tired of this shit” Cecil launched another dual bolted eldritch blast at the specter facing opposite to him and again destroyed it in one hit. “Come get me!” Cecil taunted the final specter away from his companion, making the specter pull away from Lance’s body. In wordless sync with the other, Lance charged a final guiding bolt and fired it towards the two of them, Cecil knowing to dive out of the way out of the path of the attack. He rolled once on the ground before popping up his head to watch the Guiding bolt destroy the specter, leaving quiet all around them.

“We’re getting good at this,” Lance said triumphantly as he helped Cecil up with one pull. The vampire dusted himself off and looked around. 

“I still feel like we’re being watched still.” Cecil looked around as if he was looking for something or someone. “Let's just keep going” 

Lance looked down one of the long untraveled hallways near them, and he saw a pale blue figure looking back at him. Lance stared back for a moment before Cecil pulled him along. 

Lance wasn’t sure if he was imagining things or if he really was hearing whispers and faint footsteps from down within the deep corridors they had yet to tread down. Part of him wanted to go off and investigate, but he figured such an act would truly be idiotic, if not a death wish. Cecil wasn’t his normal chatty self either, all too focused on the growing path of the amulet. It left the room feeling cold. It was then they passed into another open chamber, a crossroads of sorts. There were 4 high arched thresholds surrounding them, giving them a few paths they could go down. Cecil looked around, clearly in deep thought. Lance put his hand on his shoulder. 

“You look tense Ceece” 

“Is that my permanent nickname?”

“Maybe” He chirped, eliciting a small smile from the vampire. 

Cecil turned to face him, red eyes full of contemplation but also care. However, this expression dropped as he looked past Lance and was replaced with a look of worry. 

“My my! It’s been all too long since a living person was down here!” Lance whipped his head around and saw the ghostly blue figure of a woman looking back at him, flanked on both her sides by almost a gang of ghosts, all looking at them in varying levels of contempt to awe. “I wish I could say that to both of you but, unfortunately since one of you is a vampire that doesn’t really count,” She began to laugh. 

It was a human woman who looked to be in her 20s, at least when she died that is. Her black hair was pinned up in the back and the rest fell down her back with a purple flowing dress that turned into wisps at the bottom of the skirt, almost like a party gown. All her facial features were defined as well, her dark almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones present, unlike the specters who’s skeletal features served as a reminder of their monstrous nature. She seemed almost like she could be any other normal person. This applied to the rest of the spirits that stood around her, an avatar of the person they once were. 

“Valora?” Cecil stepped forward between Lance and the ghosts, a look of concern in his eyes. 

“Oh, he remembers me! How cute.” She feigned delight with a swoon but looked back with a disdainful smirk proving otherwise. 

“I...I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I can tell judging by that stupid look on your face.” She snarked as if she thought she had the vampire all figured out. “And I wasn’t expecting you to show up with the living in tow.”

“I’m not looking to start a fight Valora.” Cecil’s voice grew softer, though Lance could tell his counterpart wasn’t comfortable with their current situation. “It's a pleasure seeing you again.”  
“Frankly I don’t care that you’re here, though I wish that Wraith did a better job taking care of you. Really I’m just impressed you’re back since the castle was abandoned so long ago. You look different. Honestly! I didn’t even recognize you at first.” She exclaimed in almost disbelief before she lowered her gaze and looked past the warlock. “But enough about you. I’m more interested in your friend there.” 

“H-hi” Lance gave a polite wave, if not out of pure anxiety. He didn’t know what to do in this situation honestly.

Cecil had a bad feeling about all of this. Valora, she was almost at the same standing as he was as a concubine all those decades ago. It was no secret to him that she was ambitious as anything either, nor that she hated him with a burning passion as well. At least that was how it came off at the time. She had dropped dead after a dose of hemlock found its way into her drink at a gala, finding her end along with many others on that night. Such was the way of the Game.

Servants and lords alike had dropped dead with a goblet of bloodwine in their hands, some reaching out to their masters, begging to be turned. Domik had turned a blind eye to her pleas as she had fallen to the ground, grabbing at her throat as the spilled wine-stained her dress. Cecil could only silently watch the carnage, making sure to spill his own drink in the process to avoid the same fate. He could see the stain still on the dress she wore. 

“You’re a cleric aren’t you?” The former concubine vanished and reappeared behind Lance, tiptoeing her fingers up his shoulder and flying around him as if she was inspecting him. “Did he pay you to come down here with him? Kinda sad for a holy man to be working alongside the undead” She whispered mockingly into Lance’s ear, keeping her gaze on Cecil. “A powerful cleric like you is wasting time helping him, I need you to help us, I need you to help me.” 

Lance was frozen. Her ghostly touch felt like a spider running along his skin, through armor and all. She would wrap her arms around his chest in a soft, inviting embrace. He’d say her voice was soothing, if she hadn’t had that malicious tone in her voice, clearly targeted towards his companion. “Isn’t it your job to rid the world of them, Cleric?” She whispered, knowing how vulnerable people were to her charms, and she didn’t expect this priest to be any different. Any moment now, he would be putty in her arms, a combination of her seductive prowess and ghostly influence washing over him. 

Lance didn’t move, as if he was being forced to consider her words. But he quickly shook his head to knock her horrible statement from his mind. He pulled away from her in a quick motion, ripping from her embrace and turning around to face her, walking back towards Cecil.

“Look I-I don’t know how but If I can help I’m happy to,” He said hesitantly, still open to helping them, whatever she meant by that, but he was at the very least, uncomfortable with the game of charms she was playing. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say those things to me anymore.” He narrowed his eyes and moved back protectively towards Cecil. 

Cecil watched with growing anxiety. He knew how cunning Valora had been when she was alive, and apparently, she was just as ambitious in death. He had watched her die, unable to do anything. Truthfully he wished he could help her, but he didn’t want to see Lance get hurt in that process.“Valora I don’t know what this is but don’t you dare try anything.” 

She was glaring at him, but she straightened her posture and returned to her composed appearance. She then reappeared to them with the congregation of spirits. 

“You said you’re willing to help? Oh, thank you thank you!” She lauded Lance with a sickeningly sweet voice along with the rest of the spirits who had been talking amongst themselves, their whispers sounding like a gust of wind lingering through the cold room. Cecil looked towards the masses and it took only a moment to understand. The spirits were a mix of servants, guards, concubines spanning over the hundreds of decades that went into this place. There were a good number of human men’s faces he didn’t recognize, but he chose not to dwell on them. They were practically huddling together near the east archway that Valora had first come from as if they were trusting Valora to be their ambassador to the living. Though that didn’t surprise Cecil. Valora had always been one to make the masses rally around her. She was charismatic, a leader. It was not unlike when the concubines had flocked to Valora like a pride of lions. Guards would allow her to go anywhere with just a flip of her hair, her composed charm acting as a key to get her anything she wanted. Cecil knew he was removed from the politics and lives of the servants of the castle. When he wasn’t at Domik’s side, he was isolated from the others, vampires and mortals alike turning their backs on the courtesan with the halo of white hair, the sign that he was not the same as them. Valora and her posse would glare at him, their mocking laughter would fill the air, shunning and turning a cold shoulder all while fostering hostility towards the scribe, robbing him from the closest thing he would have to a community. For all of Valora’s desires to climb the social ranks, for all her charm and eloquence, she was always going to be second to Cecil in the eyes of their Vampiric lord. But he knew she didn’t realize she had more power than he ever had in that place, he just wished she knew she was free now.

“Please! Help our souls find rest and leave this place!” She began to plead. There were more laments from the other spirits, their begging growing louder as they rushed out from where they were almost hiding. There was a genuine pain in their voices, their eyes were wide and pleading, looking to Lance as if he was divine himself.

Lance had no idea what to do about this. It was his creed to help people, to never turn his back on people who need him and for the first he had the chance to use the blessings used to alleviate the spirits of the dead and help them move on, to do away with the heavy chains that weighed down their souls. But he was uneasy. Valora, well he knew nothing about her, but the expression on Cecil’s face was painting a picture that there was something deeper going on. However, the desperation in their eyes compelled him into action and so he took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Let's begin.” Lance said firmly, taking a ready stance. Cecil watched from where he stood behind Lance with arms folded. He wouldn’t stop Lance from doing his duty, after all, it was far nobler than anything he could lay claim to. Knowing there was going to be a divine light show in just a moment, he reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of glasses with dark circular lenses that would protect him from the radiant gaze.

The spell wasn’t too complex really. It was one that Lance had learned as a part of his temple training from one of the high clerics of Enrasil. It was a point where the two most important tasks of serving Enrasil met, showing mercy to those who've suffered and helping them find rest, regardless of circumstance. It was here he could end their suffering with just a few words and a simple touch. The first spirit that stepped forward was that of a meek-looking girl who wore plain clothes and dark circles under her eyes. He didn’t know if she had been vampiric or human, though it didn’t matter to Lance. 

“What’s your name?” Lance asked her calmly with a friendly smile. 

“Bianca…” Her voice came as nothing more than a whisper with flat affect. 

“Nice to meet you” he smiled “are you ready?” 

She nodded and Lance put both his hands on her shoulders. 

“Bianca, In the Name of the goddess Enrasil I free your spirits from your earthly chains so you may join the light.” He spoke calmly and with conviction before a soft golden glow began to emit from his eyes, just for a brief moment before the energy flowed through his body into the spirit before him. Her body began to take on a golden glow that emanated from her like a candlelight, consuming her body before her now golden aura softly began to dissipate. However now she was smiling brightly at her savior.

“Thank you!” She called out before the entity vanished, Cecil, watching the burning glow from behind the tinted frames. Lance had succeeded in helping her cross over to the other side. 

“I did it! Ceece I did it!” Lance smiled so brightly and pumped his fist up. Cecil couldn’t help but smile, which apparently caught the ire of Valora, but she said nothing past her glare. “Okay, who’s next?” 

It continued on like that. Each new spirit stepped forward to receive the fledgling cleric’s blessing, and with their name on his lips, they were free to crossover, to finally find rest. However, Lance was growing tired, a bit of his divine energy being siphoned away with every blessing. He wasn’t worried though and continued his duty, saving the spirits of the guards, concubines, and servants alike. Slowly the crowd of spirits dwindled before them. But Cecil had taken notice of something strange though. Valora was standing away from the spectacle near the southern archway. There were other spirits that hovered around her as if they were her guards as if they were waiting for something. Cecil grew suspicious, knowing Valora wasn’t as altruistic as she had been making herself out to be. Cautiously he approached the group as Lance continued his ceremony. 

“Aren’t you going to wait for your turn?” Cecil asked, arms folded as he stood next to them. Some of the spirits turned to look at him, but their expressions weren’t that of the harmless flat affects of the ghosts like Bianca, they were full of recognition and emotion, and they were glaring him down. 

“Cecil, I can’t believe you brought exactly who we needed to us. A cleric of all people!” Valora sounded delighted as she turned to him. “Those poor souls have wanted to crossover for so long, some even over a century of waiting.” 

“...Well he is simply doing his job,” Cecil replied warningly. He failed to notice that Lance was nearly done, placing his hands on the last spirit that stood before him. 

Lance was starting to feel the effects as he grew more and more tired the divine power drained from him. As the final spirit passed on, his arms fell to his knees and he slumped a bit, trying to catch his breath as a rush of fatigued raked over his body.

“O-okay” he was breathing hard but didn’t falter as he stood upright again, stretching his arms up knowing he had enough power to help the last 5 spirits Cecil was currently talking to. “I just need a breather and I’ll be right over!” He called with a nonchalant chuckle. 

“And such a job it is when it leaves one so drained and defenseless.” Valora replied “It’s a noble thing to help spirits pass on. Though now he’ll serve another purpose to me.” She looked down at the vampire. “And you my dear Cecil Baranski, are in my way.” 

Before Cecil could charge an attack or call out to Lance in warning he felt powerful grips lock around his arms and forced him down to buckled knees. Struggling as he might he could not break free as he was pulled to the ground, looking to see how he was held in a ghostly restraint from Valora’s allies that held him with the force and skill of trained guards. Valora grinned in satisfaction. 

“Lance, it's a trap!” He screamed to his companion which made Lance stand alert. 

Lance saw his companion restrained and Valora’s hideous laughter filling the air. His eyes widened in shock but before he could make a move, her two other ghostly allies rose from the ground behind him and pulled the weakened cleric to his knees.

“You bleeding heart! I can’t believe you fell for it!” She viciously mocked as she observed her two captured prey. “Cecil dear, think, why would I want to pass on? I’m not done with this life yet. I just need to make it out of this castle and our little cleric is just my vessel to do it.” Her voice dropped as if darkness seeped into her airy voice, her ghostly hand grabbing Cecil's face and making her look to him. “You think I took my death lightly? No. I’ve been trapped down here for decades waiting. Waiting until someone came along I could possess and walk out of here and get my revenge on the one who did this to me.” 

Cecil’s eyes went wide as he realized her goal. He was then reminded of how she looked as the poison overtook her, her body convulsing and the color draining from her face. The light faded from her eyes as she grabbed at Domik’s robes. Valora was smart, ambitious, but because of Domik’s cruelty, she suffered a fate he could have saved her from. But it was more convenient to allow her to be lumped in with the victims. 

“And it was you. You who always stood so far above us all! But now you’ll be the one who’s trapped down here forever. Without any blood, you’ll whither into a husk.” She sounded desperate, manic almost. “This young priest is the perfect vessel for me. I’ll live again!” 

“Valora. I’m sorry your life was stolen away before you even died. But I’m not going to let you hurt him!” Cecil bared his teeth as he lurched forward trying to break free. Valora laughed again and looked towards Lance who was struggling in his weakened state. As an extra measure, one of the ghosts knocked the sheathed sword from his back, far out of his grip. 

“I don’t need your apologies, you little miscreant.” She let go of Cecil’s face with a look of disdain. “But I’m more than happy to make you watch.” She turned her back and began to approach Lance. 

“I SAID DON’T TOUCH HIM” Cecil’s beautiful smooth voice came instead as a hissing snarl as Lance watched an Eldritch blast streak across the room, the purple glow striking Velora across the face. She screeched in pain and grabbed her face, whipping around to face the vampire. Where she was hit was marred like a scar across her face and her eyes were enraged. Though the scar began to regenerate itself, she flew with a howl and grabbed Cecil by the throat, her nail digging into his skin as she hoisted him up. 

“So...you’re a warlock now…” She was breathing heavily with a morbid laugh. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t make things easy.”

“Let me go.” Cecil demanded, his claws sharpened to a point and his flesh ripping fangs barred in anger. 

Rather than reply, she grabbed hold of Cecil’s bag and tore it from his body letting it clamber to the ground. Then she turned her head to the entrance of the southern arch.

“You don’t have a fear of falling, do you, Cecil?” 

“You wouldn’t”  
“Oh but I would.” 

Lance could only watch the spirit drag Cecil deeper into the darkness with one eye open as his face was forced into the ground. 

“What’s she doing?” Lance demanded in a panic as he jerked again, trying to break free. 

“Pit…” One of the ghostly voices replied. “Pit for traitors....” 

Lance felt sick. 

With her fingers digging into his neck, Cecil couldn’t break free. She was stealing energy from him every time he tried to jerk away, making his struggling useless. 

“We were on the same side, Valora.”

“Side? What sides?” She mocked “Like you didn’t look down at the rest of us from your high perch? You were never on my side” Valora hissed as they entered the chamber. The room was made up of nothing other than a giant cavernous pit too dark to see the bottom of. Cecil’s slow heart began to beat faster as he tried to grab at her wrists only for his hands to phase through.

“I never did such a thing…” the vampire struggled “I wanted nothing more than to connect with you all...we were all...under Domik’s control. You all had each other while I had nothing...no one. Don’t p-pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. But you know Domik did this to us!” 

Valora’s eyes flashed with clarity, her gaze seeming to soften as she pulled her fingers out from his neck. Cecil gasped for air as he knew what awaited him down in that pit. It was just another place where traitors went to die, ripped to shreds by whatever beast waited for them, their remains never to be retrieved. 

“...You were the target of our jealousy. Always paraded in the most gorgeous of fabrics. Not to mention you were his scribe...he took you places we only heard rumors of...castles and court and battlefields… We hated you and your position... it made it easy to ignore all else.” 

“It’s always easy to ignore. Isn’t it?” Cecil asked with ever-growing pain in his voice. Her life had been stolen just as his was, all by that man. But it didn’t change the fact she had a hand in hurting him the way she did. “But at least you all had each other.” 

“Maybe in another time, we could have been friends, Cecil Baranski.” She whispered. “But unfortunately, it’s your turn to die in this castle.” She let go of. 

Cecil grabbed at her but instead, he could only plummet further down, the ghost watching him vanish into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading the update! Please leave any comments you want and feedback is always welcome! hit me up on @gaycalculator on Tumblr and if you want to post at all about this just tag me or use #Ghosts of Aetroth (if Tumblr even wants to work that is) so I can see it! Again thank y'all so much!


	8. Fears of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valora digs her way into Lance's memories in order to find a weak point to take control. Cecil fends for his life against bloodthirsty creatures. It's here where visions of the past come to the light, however dark and violent it might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Implied Mention of Sexual Assult  
> Uncomfortable scene mirroring sexual assault but very short  
> Lots of blood and gore

Lance watched Valora return to the main chamber alone, feeling his blood boil hot as fear and worry washed over him in vicious waves. 

“What did you do to him?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about him anymore, Cleric. I don’t know why you were with him, but it doesn’t matter now.”

The ghosts jerked Lance upright so he could look up at her, but that was all he could manage. Lance glared up at her, but his body felt too weak to fight back. 

“What’s the point of all this? What the fuck do you even want?” Lance questioned, feeling his anger boiling inside him.

“Simple. I’m going to possess you. At first, I was worried when I saw you were a cleric, but you wore down that divine barrier quite well, you bleeding heart,” She explained and grabbed the back of his hair. “You just have to save everyone, don’t you? Then again, not everyone’s so lucky.” 

“Good luck with that then because there’s no way I’m going to let you,” Lance spat, feeling some blood trickle from his forehead that had been pressed into the ground moments before. He gave a smug grin, which clearly rubbed Valora the wrong way. “And I know Cecil’s doing just fine. Regardless of what you did, he’s not one to roll over so easily.” 

_‘He has to be okay… ‘_ Lance tried to reassure himself, repeating it like a mantra. 

“Well if that's the case, he’ll have a nasty little surprise if he pulls himself up here,” The two spirits that had restrained Cecil came to her side then as if they were loyal soldiers ready to protect her.

Lance was terrified, but he would never show it. Not even when he felt ghostly hands dive into his body, stealing his energy as if they were trying to rip a hole inside his very spirit where they could make a nest for themselves. But, he still let out a bloodcurdling scream.

-

Cecil wanted to scream as he plummeted further down, trying to run through any possible solutions that would save him from immediate death upon impact with the cold hard ground. Even if he was a vampire, he was only truly immune to aging, death itself was still a very real consequence at the end of the day. But he was not going to die like this, in this cursed fucking castle while his companion was tortured by a tantruming spirit. He collected himself and began to think fast. If he could get close enough to the wall he could cling to it at the very least. He first cast Spider Climb and felt the rush of power flow through him. He looked down, and gods the ground was coming closer and closer to him, but no matter. He then summoned an eldritch blast with a deep breath and dispelled it towards the side furthest from him. It acted like a rocket, sending him straight into the stone wall behind him. But much like a person trying to stop themselves from tumbling down a hillside, it was not as simple as just planting feet to the ground. His fall was breaking of course which would save him, but it was not going to be a smooth landing. His palms burned as they dragged against the stone face and the points of the stone dug into his body like a child’s toy dragged across cobblestone. But then when his back hit the cold ground shortly after losing his grip, he knew he had survived this part of his predicament. The throbbing in his skull compelled him to close his eyes and rest, if not for a moment… but from the darkness, he heard a growl. 

-

Much like the other creatures that had aimed to steal energy from his body, draining his strength and power, the feeling of Valora’s ghostly grip latching onto his mind stung in raw agony. It was violating as if he couldn’t hide a thing from her as she looked for a weakness to slip in through. Lance wanted to scream again but he had to keep himself calm. Rather than rely on his divine energy, he was going to will her out through pure force alone. 

“Lance, just relax. It’ll be easier that way,” Valora hushed as her touch slipped deeper.

“I’m not going to let you,” Lance winced, groaning in pain before shouting out in agony, focusing his energy towards one of the outside influences. His eyes were screwed shut but he heard the hum of a zap and the ghostly shriek of one of the many spirits as he forced them out. The spirit pulled back and lost their hold on him, falling back as their hands burned from the divine magic. Feeling the momentary relief, Lance grinned. 

“I won’t make this easy for you. You should’ve tired me out more…” Lance snarked with a heavy breath, the adrenaline in his blood pushing him forward, trying to distract him from his worry for his companion. 

Valora was sifting through all of Lance’s memories as if she was flipping through a book. She saw the memories of a truly good person who only wanted to help people. It made a part of her feel a twist of regret for what she was doing, but she put it out of her mind. As the Cleric stressed for the safety of his companion, she felt the warmth of both his affection and horror... But that horror was not a foreign concept to Lance. That much she could feel, which meant it was something she could exploit. 

“Lance, no matter how much you tell yourself Cecil will be okay, I’ll tell you now it’s not true.” Valora hissed. “You can’t hide from me even if you try to keep me out. But I wonder… what will I find if I dig deeper?”

\- 

“Great, just my fucking luck” Cecil got to his feet as fast as he could, trying to take stock of how many injuries he had sustained. He pulled his hand away from his head and saw blood which he felt beginning to trickle down his face.  
“I’ll deal with that later. I just have to climb,” With Spider Climb in full effect, Cecil grabbed a chunk of rock and mounted his foot to the surface. He began to press his other foot to the rock face, but as he pulled up a stab of pain shocked him. 

“Agh!” Cecil couldn’t help but cry out as he let go of his grip coming back to the pit’s floor. It was then he realized the pain was coming from his back where he had landed so harshly. Cecil pressed a hand to his spine and winced again. If he had been human, this fall would have killed him, even if his spell had helped break the fall. Thanks to his vampirism, at the very least he was harder to kill, but that was where the benefits ended. He wasn’t going to be able to make that climb just yet.

“Lance, you better be alive when I get back up there,” Cecil said to himself as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, quickly backing himself up to the wall of the pit. He heard the clatter of rocks come from somewhere nearby and the sound of something running. His ears twitched as he used his heightened senses to locate whatever was down here with him, and if he was going to survive, he needed to figure that out and quick. 

“It fucking reeks…” Cecil wrinkled his nose as the scent of death and decay permeated the air. He looked to his right and saw bones strewn about laying in puddles of liquified rot. He bent to pick one up, staying on high alert as he did so. He ignored the squelch of congealed blood as he picked up the femur bone.

“Bite marks,” He observed, running his finger along the shattered end of the bone and the various gnaw marks, however, he couldn’t identify the source. These bones were not fresh, but it seemed like normal decomposition didn’t have much of a chance to succeed down here. Even the bone marrow had been sucked clean from the remains. Cecil groaned in disgust and threw it aside. He considered his options before a smug grin crossed his lips. He began to laugh. 

“Come on already! I know you’re here just as much as you know me,” Cecil called to whatever creature or creatures were currently stalking him. The rocks tumbled again and there was the pad of running near to him. He began to summon two bolts of eldritch blasts which illuminated the vampire in a purple glow. “So why don’t you make yourselves known and we can figure out who’s going to eat who first?” Cecil’s fangs bared sharp in a wicked smile.

\- 

“Valora, you don’t have to do this,” Lance shouted at her before he let out another cry as her influence penetrated deeper into his mind. “I-I can s-still help you pass on… help all of you pass on!” He felt her begin to rip at things that were private, things he saw in his nightmares, things he wanted to forget. 

“Save your breath, Cleric,” Valora snapped in exertion, her dip into Lance’s mind beginning to take a greater toll on her than she was expecting. She was learning quickly that this one was more than just talk, but she would soon break through that spirit. She tore away at the defenses he built up, memories of life and love.

_“The Clerics of The Mortal Gods have slain you, foul creature!” A dwarven child decreed as he hit the laughing Cleric with a stick triumphantly as if he swung a war mace._

_There were other children that kept the Cleric pinned to the ground shouting out spells of ‘Sacred Flame!’ and ‘Inflict Wounds!’ through their innocent laughter. The half-elf pretended to writhe on the ground in agony._

_“You have defeated me!” The half-elf cried in a goofy voice, clutching his stomach as if he had been dealt a fatal blow. “I should have never challenged you all to such a battle! Clearly, my folly has become the death...of...me…” He reached towards the ‘light’ dramatically as the children cheered in victory, their makeshift tabards of pillowcases draped over them making them all match._

_“Mr. Lance! Mr. Lance! Get up!” A human child pulled him up from the grass by his arm a moment later, no rest for the weary it seemed. “We only have a little more time before the priests come to get us for study! You gotta show us how to tie ropes now!”_

_“Rope tying!”_

_“Yeah, I wanna learn how to tie up a horse!”_

_“A horse? More like a bird! Can you show me how to tie up a bird Mr. Lance?”_

_The half-elf laughed and smiled before getting to his feet, the gaggle of children jumping around like excited baby chicks._

_“Yes, I’ll teach you how to do all of that. Now, who wants to race me to the stables?”_

_“ME” “I DO” The children shouted in unison before bolting in that direction, the Cleric following them close behind._

“So you stayed at that temple longer than your training required...Looking for a community I wonder...But no, no you were not raised in the temples.” Valora gathered as Lance’s emotions filtered through her as if she was putting together a broken puzzle that would unlock the door she needed. “Your spirit is far freer than that.” 

“Get...out of my...head…” Lance choked out of his ever-growing sore throat. This pull however was a two-way street, and when they faltered, he could feel it just as well. So when one of the ghosts slipped up, he focused his energy again knowing that if Valora lost her aid, he had a chance. As if another bolt of electricity traveled through his body, one of the ghosts received a shock similar to that of a Guiding Bolt, making them pull away in agony. He knew he hadn’t killed them, and to that, he was still grateful, but they would not be able to slip back into his mind.

“So you aren’t as stupid as you look.” Valora hissed as she recognized his game, her dwindling aid making her goal all the more difficult. She tore away at more cobweb memories of exciting adventures and individuals he met in every little town he seemed to have crossed through. But these memories, they were all so recent, only a few years old. Meaning he was hiding something from his past, she rushed through these memories as if it were a long and boring book until she found a knot of interest. “Is this a Caravan I see here, Lance?”

-

Cecil watched as pairs of glowing ice-blue eyes began to peer through the darkness all around him, growing closer and closer as if they had taken his challenge. He began to hear animalistic, guttural snarling, and the slurping of a creature whetting its appetite. Then, barreling out of the darkness, came creatures with skin like a decaying corpse and grotesque teeth that snapped with drool. Their howls were laced with savagery and hunger, driven forth with no purpose other than to consume. Some ran upright while others crawled half the way on account of their mindless stumbling, clawed and marred hands reaching out towards their next meal. 

These were ghouls, undead monsters with no other drive than to devour flesh in an insatiable hunger, known to feed off the dead and the living all the same. Those in between were also up for grabs. And right now it seemed they outnumbered their prey eight to one. 

“HAAA-!” Cecil shot forth an Eldritch Blast, the two bolts shooting out towards the closest ghoul, striking it clear in the head, ripping it clear from its body making it fall dead. “Just seven more to go!” 

The mindless monster let their tongues hang free, dripping sludge-like saliva as one lunged at Cecil from an elevated rock. The dive bombing monster was able to slash Cecil across the cheek, making him bleed with a deep gash before he felt a clammy hand grab his arm, nails digging into him as another ghoul went to rip the flesh from his face. Cecil fought to keep the creature from getting close enough to bite, planting his feet firm into the stone. But the Ghoul’s grotesque tongue decided to lap the blood from the vampire’s face with all its putridness dripping from its jagged teeth. Not far behind another ghoul was charging the dancing pair on all fours with another snarl. 

Cecil acted fast, charging his eldritch blast which shot out in two bolts yet again, one aiming for the Ghoul that held him captive and the other that approached fast on all fours. The bolt that shot towards the charging ghoul struck it in the chest, throwing it off just enough that it recoiled back and ended it’s pursuit if not for a moment to howl in pain. 

Cecil could feel the hot breath on his face as the grotesque tongue licked him as if it was trying to taste. It felt disgusting, violating even, feelings that filled the vampire with a surge of rage allowing him to rip his arm free only to shove his hand into the gut of the ghoul that stood above him. 

“Bye.” The bolt that was fired ripped through the monster's gut, spraying hot blood onto Cecil at such a close distance, but he couldn’t find it in him to care much. The ghoul screamed as it fell backward, the wound to it’s stomach still smoking from the arcane attack. Cecil was breathing heavily as he wiped his face of the saliva, but the scent of blood filled him with vigor. He licked the blood that had coated his hand and felt a sort of calm wash over him as he tasted it, his energy coming back to him bit by bit. Facing back towards him were six remaining hungry ghouls. Cecil was getting more torn up than he had been since they got down here. If he was to fail here, he’d become dog food for his dead master’s pets and Lance would become a walking puppet. He grinned and bared his flesh-tearing teeth wide.

“I’m starting to have some fucking fun”

\- 

Lance was doing all he could to keep her from clawing deeper, but the toll on his body was beginning to match the toll on his mind as he tried to force her influence out. He thrashed and bared his teeth so hard it hurt. Then he tasted blood in his mouth as it dripped from his now bleeding nose. 

“So you were a mother's boy I see. What a gorgeous woman she was, I can definitely see the resemblance but in more ways than one. It seems she was just like you, blessed with the power of the divines.” 

It made Lance feel sick to hear her speak of his mother. His mother who he had left behind with nothing as much as a goodbye. Valora was using her against him in every way she could see fit now, using the warm memory as a misfit key forced to fit whatever keyhole she found. 

“But she gave it up to join a Caravan of thieves. Thieves that hunted and stole and killed for what they wanted in life. Do you think she knew that when she abandoned her shield? That she would give birth to killers like your siblings? Like you are Lance?” 

The voice of Valora was becoming more and more distorted in his head, twisting into an amalgamation of the vengeful ghost and his mother. Every word Valora said began to echo in the voice of the mother he missed so dearly. But it wasn’t just his mother he missed. He missed his sisters and brothers, he missed the children he watched over in camp, he missed the animals that pulled the wagons. He even missed his father. Tears were beginning to roll down Lance’s cheeks along with the blood from his nose and forehead, dripping off his chin to puddle on the stone beneath where he hung his head. 

“What good will this do Valora? You’re dead! You’re dead and there’s no way you can live a normal life!” Lance screamed at her, voice cracking. 

“Who said this was about living a normal life!” Valora shrieked like a banshee, the dark tendrils of her grasp shooting further into him as if it was retaliation for his comment. “You know nothing of me! This is my last chance to take my revenge!” 

Valora’s enraged surge of force brought her to another memory. 

_“Dad, I don’t want to kill him. He’s not doing anything wrong…” The child was holding the knife his father had placed in his hands with a shaky grip._

_“On the contrary, my son. Venison is highly sought after and will be a great help to the caravan.”_

_“But we already gathered enough food, didn’t we? Why can’t we just...bandage his leg and let him go?”_

_Before the pair was an injured buck lying defenseless on the ground. Its leg was too damaged to move, but it was clearly not the result of a predator. No, as his father explained the creature had likely just met some rough terrain and ended up with an unlucky fall. But they could help instead of hurt...so why was his father so adamant about this?_

_“That is not the order of things boy. We were the lucky ones in this situation, and opportunity is in our hands. You would be an idiot to pass this up,” The disapproval in his father's voice was clear. “Either kill it like I taught you or you will not eat tonight.”_

_“But Dad I-” The child protested, trying to ignore the animal’s panicked thrashing and crying out._

_“Lance, if you do not do this then you’ve proven to me you’re weak! In only a few years you will be old enough to join us on our missions, but I will not allow a coward to remain in our ranks! It is a simple animal who has lost it’s right to tread this earth any longer,” The tall man folded his arms and looked down at his youngest child, waiting to see what choice he would make, to see if he was fit to follow his footsteps._

_“I’m sorry…” The child whispered to the buck before slitting its throat._

_That night, the half-elf child laid in bed with venison in his belly. But he could not forget the way the animal screamed in terror._

“Your first kill left room for improvement I see. But then again, what young boy doesn’t strive for his fathers’ approval in some way.” Valora hissed as she felt Lance’s final barriers start to crumble. “A bleeding heart never goes away it seems.” 

Lance couldn’t find the concentration to speak, but as if it was an instinct buried inside him, he was able to summon a sacred flame that flared from his open palms against the ghosts restraining him. He heard a shriek come from the two ghosts that held him down, but Valora refused to let go. 

“Ah-ah! You’re going to have to do better than that Lance! And do it soon.” Valora began to laugh maniacally, even as her aid was gone she no longer needed it. “Because I just found the last piece I need.”

-

One Ghoul lept at him from another ledge, Cecil managed to step back just in time so the ghoul’s claws only scratched him across the chest, further ruining the formerly white shirt. As much as it stung, Cecil knew it could have been much worse as those claws were used to rip away limbs from devoured corpses. He pressed his hand to his bleeding chest and decided it needed a taste of its own medicine. Instincts driving him forward and the scent of copious blood flooding his senses, he launched himself at the ghoul with his own claws primed to attack. Cecil’s claws dug into the Ghoul’s throat and ripped, cutting violently through the decaying cartilage and flesh and tearing a giant gash to which blood spurted like a fountain. The Ghoul wasn’t dead but the gurgling noises it made as it grabbed for its throat and fell to the ground told him it would be soon. Cecil looked at the blood dripping from his claws and the flesh they had ripped away. He grinned and in a moment, unceremoniously dug his teeth into the bloody flesh, the relief to his injured body better than any healing potion could ever be. 

“I guess I’m starting to answer my own question.” Cecil didn’t pay attention to the ghouls that charged at him and instead kept his crimson eyes focused on the ghoul who had taken a bolt earlier. He raised his bloody hand in a point before clenching it in a fist. The chime of bells surrounded the wounded monster and as if it was a human itself, it began to clutch its head and screamed in agony. Its body began to wither into a husk as it’s remaining life force was pulled from its body leaving it leathery and gaunt. Toll the Dead was a truly horrible way to go regardless of how its victim lived its life. Some of the ghouls took notice of their pack member’s unnatural death, but not the one that then launched itself at Cecil with a ghastly snarl. Before Cecil could react he felt claws dig into his shoulder and force him to the ground, blood beginning to leak from where the ghoul’s claws tore at his skin. 

“Fuck!” Cecil swore as he tried to kick the ghoul off him but to no avail as the creature held him down. For its corpse-like appearance, it was strong and wouldn’t be shoved away so easily. It slobbered and snarled meer inches from Cecil’s face as the other ghouls ran towards them. Cecil’s blood was pumping fast and hard as he felt more claws grab him as if they were laying claim to what they would eat first. He couldn’t break free, and the way their clammy, grotesque hands seemed to grab at him...he hated it. 

“Get off me!” He shouted as a grotesque hand grabbed his thigh and held it down so he couldn’t kick. His arms were restrained against the ground, preventing him from shoving the top one-off. He felt claws brush his open wounds as if it planned to rip him open further. There was too much touching. They were too close to him, so much so Cecil didn’t even have room to breathe properly as their rank breath began to make him dizzy. He felt like he was going to choke from the sick feeling that crawled over him, but unfortunately, it was a feeling that was all too familiar.

_ “It's in your best interest not to fight back, my dear Cecil.” _

“I SAID GET OFF ME” 

The vampire ripped himself free with a deep agonizing scream, claws grabbing the ghoul’s face and shoulder, shoving it to the ground before fangs buried itself into the exposed jugular. The vampire drank all he could at that moment, biting down again harder and harder until there was a crunch of bones breaking under the bite force before he tore away, the mangled mess of flesh still in his teeth before he spat it out. He turned to the remaining three ghouls with burning crimson eyes, his blood running hotter than he had felt in a while. He was still hungry. 

One of the ghouls tried it’s luck and lept at the bloody vampire again, apparently deciding it was time to stop messing around and went in bite first. Cecil held his arms cross to block his upper body and face, but the sting of the bite still pierced his forearm. The ghoul reached up and tried to grab the vampire’s arm to hold it still so it could tear it off, but this time the vampire didn’t even flinch. Instead, he allowed the eldritch blast he had charged to fire point-blank into the ghoul’s face. The blast decapitated the monster with a rich purple glow leaving nothing but a smoking stump at the neck. Cecil threw the corpse aside into the dirt and saw the two remaining ghouls watching in what one might describe as fear, however, these were simple creatures. Anything smarter would have thought to run away as fast as they could, to hide in the shadows and rock formations and pray the vampire didn’t feel like pursuing. But unfortunately for these two ghouls, their only instincts told them to run towards the monster, and run they did. 

One of the ghouls met a similar fate to its former companions. It had tried to force the vampire back to the ground by simply overpowering him. Unfortunately, it left it’s throat wide open, giving the vampire a height advantage as he lunged upwards and dug his teeth in. As the vampire drank the blood from the ghoul who let out a pained screech, he made sure to dig his claws into its faces and body for good measure, ripping at the flesh until it came off like wet paper. 

When the vampire released the body from his bite, he was met with the final ghoul’s last-ditch assault. The ghoul came from behind and with all, it’s exerted effort, lunged at the vampire and aimed for the throat. But the simple creature was met with an arm through its chest, black nails coming out the other side of its body as blood spewed. It gurgled as blood filled its throat and spilled down its mouth, the arm then pulled out in one swift motion. Before it could even think to react, vampiric fangs dug into its throat to drain the remaining blood from the corpse. 

Cecil felt the wounds that covered his body begins to heal and close with every drop of blood he consumed. The slashing claw marks, the few bites, and the throbbing pain in his back had all gone. He drained the final body in its entirety, leaving it nothing but a husk underneath him as he kept himself steady on hands and knees. Gluttony and Wrath pushed him to make a meal of the other ghoul corpses that scattered the area around him, but as the enraged haze left his mind, he knew he had no time to do any such thing. He was covered in blood and as he tried to wash it from his face and hands using pooled water from overhanging stalactites, a faint but piercing screamed ripped him back into reality. 

“Lance…” he whispered with dread, remembering all at once what was happening up there. He ran to the wall and began to climb up without a second thought, the adrenaline washed from his body leaving only fear and worry. “Lance just hold on a little longer.”

-

_“Dad I...I don’t feel right about this…” The 18-year-old half-elf said softly so only his father would hear. “It’s a small village! I mean it’s one thing to steal from carriages and all but… these are homes!”_

_“They’re home of people who’s kingdom guards left. They’re open and vulnerable Lance, and that was their mistake. You’ve been at this for three years now, I thought you had grown a stronger stomach by now.”_

_The teenager said nothing, only looked away in shame. The daggers that hung at his hips felt heavier today and the insignia around his arm burned._

_“It’s the buck all over again Lance. When you’re given an opportunity you take it, it’s the order of the world.”_

_“...yes sir.”_

_“Be ready to go in an hour. And go check on your mother, she needs help with the wash.”_

_The teenager went to ready his gear for the upcoming mission. It was a set of tools lovingly called a burglar's pack, not shying away from its intended purposes. The backpack was packed well and efficiently, following his mother’s method of packing to optimize the most room. He left the bag in his tent before he went to find his mom._

_“Hey, mom...do you ever get the feeling like you know something’s going to go wrong... like a higher power is begging you to stop but you can’t hear them?” He asked as he hung up the wet linens next to his mom._

_“What brought this question on sweetie?” She asked, looking towards her youngest son with underlying worry in her green eyes._

_“I just...I don’t have a good feeling about the mission today. I feel like it’s going to go wrong….somehow.”_

_“W-well that might just be nerves....” she started_

_“No, it’s not! It’s like...It’s like something is trying to steer me away from this, from all of this!” Lance suddenly snapped before he looked away ashamed. “S-sorry for yelling.”_

_“Sweetie come here.” His mother wrapped her arms around him like she had done since he was a crying child. “I...I know these missions take a toll on you. If you don’t want to go I’ll talk to him and-” she reached for his cheek and gently cupped it._

_“If I don’t then I’ll be branded as a coward mom…” he shifted away but still took her raised hand in his. “It’s what I was trained to do...I can’t just ditch now.”_

_His mother tightened her grip on his hand, but she soon loosened it._

_“Lance Rotenk listened to me. My son, you will never be a coward. I know your heart and believe me, it’s simply not in your blood. I raised a kind and good-hearted son and nothing will change that. I just know that one day you’ll be where you belong.” Looking back her loving words had been drenched in such sadness. But at that moment all he could think to do was hug her._

_“Will you see us off before we leave?” Lance asked curiously as his mother never appeared on missions he was put on._

_“I...I don’t think so...b-by the time you leave the laundry will be done and if I don’t get it down right away I just know the winds will pick up!” She replied. “But when you get back I’ll have dinner ready.”_

_“Well at least I can look forward to that” Lance laughed before bending down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you when we get back!”_

_“Good luck sweetie” She waved as she watched her youngest child leave for the last time._

“I d-don’t want to see this…” Lance struggled as the tears flowed down his face. “P-please just stop it!” He knew exactly what memory she had found, and he would have given anything to make her stop.

“Oh but now I’m curious.” Valora laughed, but part of her...part of her wishes she could stop here. She didn’t intend for it to come to this, but she had to push forward now. “But if you let me in right now I’ll stop” 

Lance bared his teeth. “You will not possess me…” 

“Have it your way.” 

_“Look at it...even for a place so small we’ll make such a killing here!” His older brother Rohan grinned wide at his fellow thieves, taking a swig from a flask as they watched the village from their dark cover in the trees. The full moon hung in the air and the village below, however small, was absolutely flush with gems thanks to a nearby mine. The village did quite well for itself, but it was incredibly small and out of the way as well. Which made it all too vulnerable._

_“B-but we aren’t going to kill anyone right?” Lance asked in a hushed tone._

_“If the villagers know what’s good for them then we won’t have to.” His brother chuckled, followed by laughter in front of the other young thieves around them._

_“I’m ready to get this started already” someone complained._

_“Not until the signal” Rohan scolded and looked to the opposite side of the village where their father was currently waiting. Lance adjusted his rope to ensure it wouldn’t break loose on their climb down, but if he was being honest, that was the least of his fears._

_And then the bird whistle came._

_Lance would follow his brother’s lead on the way down, the group moving as silent as they could behind the ring of houses. The villagers were almost all gathered in the village square’s bonfire, too busy carrying on to notice the thieves descending on their homes. Lance could only pray it stayed that way. When they made it to the ground and untied themselves, Lance watched as his brother bolted to his target as swift as a shadow._

_When they were kids, Lance loved Rohan, his cool older brother that stopped the older kids from picking on him. His brother, who could calm down any horse with a few pats and a calm voice. His brother, who told him how to talk to his crushes. But it seemed that once Rohan earned his stripes as a member of the Lapis Serpents, it was all he cared about._

_Lance didn’t have time to dwell on it._

_Through the unlocked backdoor into a kitchen, Lance slipped through. The room was empty and he heard not a single noise in the house. It seemed he could breathe easy. He went to work grabbing whatever valuables he could find, specifically those of the gemstone variety. It became clear that this town was absolutely loaded, as even their utensils had rubies sitting on the top. He gathered up everything on the first floor, and judging by the fact not a single scream had rung out, they were still undetected. At least no one was getting hurt so far. At one point Lance glanced out a window and saw Rohan slip in from the roof into an open window as if he flew. Lance took a deep breath and went upstairs, taking a quick look and quickly realizing it was empty much to his relief. He dipped into the bedrooms, looking for anything he could. He avoided taking any jewelry as to not steal anything with sentimental value. He had swiped some money and nice-looking tools, but he was largely satisfied with the jewel-encrusted dining ware. Then, he heard a door open with a twitch of his ears. There was muffled chatter coming into the house and slowly up the stairs. By the time the elderly couple made it upstairs, Lance was already on the other side of the bedroom window, vanished without a trace. In fact, he smiled as he heard the elderly woman rag her wife for leaving the window open._

_But their window of time was closing and Lance hadn’t seen his brother come out of that house._

_“Maybe I should go check…” He thought, wondering what could be taking Rohan so long._

_Lance snuck in through the backdoor rather than the upstairs window like his brother did, and almost immediately he heard something upstairs, a certain type of commotion. Fearing the worst, Lance made his way up the stairs to the second floor. He heard arguing._

What came next was a blur even in Lance’s memories.

_There was a man tied up next to a large safe. In front of him, Rohan stood with his dagger to the man’s throat. Lance hid in the stairwell and watched from the angle._

_“I said tell me how to open it!” Rohan hit the man with the handle of his dagger. Upon a closer look, Lance could see blood marring the man’s face. He had to cover his mouth to hold back the gasp. “You mean nothing to me. I’ll gut you without a second fucking thought. Corporate and I’ll let you live.”_

_Lance felt sick watching his brother torture this man. It wasn’t just putting them in jeopardy, it was unnecessary cruelty. Unable to stop himself, he ran forward into the room._

_“Rohan stop!”_

_“Lance? What do you mean stop? He’s about to crack if you help me I-”_

_“N-no we have to go! This-this isn’t worth it!” Lance begged, stepping forward to pull his brother away, but he was quickly swatted away._

_“Lance, do not start with this. I said if he gave me the code I would let him go, simple as that._

_“But you’re putting us at risk! We need to go soon and they’re going to find us!”_

_“I don’t leave a job unfinished! This guy’s a banker, there's bound to be tons of coins in that safe! It’ll all be worth it if you just let me- ”_

_“ J-just leave him and let’s go!”_

_Rohan didn’t answer. He just tightened his fists around his daggers._

_“Fine.”_

_Lance felt himself relax just a bit, but as he turned to leave he heard his brother let out a scream of frustration, turning just in time to see him bringing his dagger to the man’s throat._

_“Don’t!” And Lance charged him._

_He tackled his brother away from the bound man, knocking them both to the ground. Before he could question what the hell he was doing he felt his brother shove back on him and pin him to the ground._ _  
_ _“Of all the God's curses Lance! I thought maybe you had matured enough but father was just-” Rohan grunted in exertion as he punched his little brother across the face. “Wasting his time with you! You’re denying what you were born to do because of your-” Lance felt blood in his mouth but he tried to push back, kicking out his legs and gritting his teeth in exertion. “Bleeding heart!”_

_“I wasn’t born just to kill and steal!” Lance spat back, using his superior height to kick his leg out against Rohan’s chest, shoving him back against the nightstand they had first crashed into. However, agile Rohan caught himself and slid across the floor for only a moment before he was able to stand up. Lance who had rolled back over his shoulders sprung to his feet as well. Lance saw how his brother now held his daggers in a combat stance._

_“You listen to Mother too much! She always coddled you and therefore made you weak!” Rohan charged him with an attack born from anger and frustration. If he had taken even a moment to calm himself Lance knew this would not be happening. As the blades came down Lance ducked out of the way with a skillful dodge._

_“I’m not going to fight you, Rohan!”_

_“Yes, you will! Prove to me you’re worthy of that tattoo on your arm!” Rohan was always his father’s favorite, the perfect prodigy, and heir to their clan. And now he was turning those skills to his own blood._

_Lance dodged attacks left and right, his brother breaking furniture and decorations he crashed into. He felt the sting of metal across his cheek as the blade narrowly missed somewhere more vital, but even with the trickle of blood Lance couldn’t believe it was coming to this._

_“Rohan c-calm down!” Lance begged, but the distraction caused him to misstep and fall onto his back._

_“HAA-!” Rohan’s blades were coming down on him fast from his elevated perch on the bed. Lance had no way to get out of the way, and so his instincts took control. He grabbed his daggers in a reverse grip, bringing them to his face just in time to catch the attack as steel hit steel. “Oh, now that’s more like it Lance!”_

_Lance was breathing heavily now, not certain how much longer he could keep up his dodging. Daggers in hand he kept blocking and countering the strikes as they came, but he wouldn’t make an attack on his own brother!_

_“Fight back!” Rohan demanded and surged his blade forward. Lance closed his eyes and let out his own scream of exertion. He kept his eyes shut the whole time. Rohan must have been getting sloppy because as Lance’s daggers knocked away his blades and he surged forward, his stomach was wide open._

_When Lance opened his eyes he saw what he had done. Two daggers were lodged in his older brother’s gut, blood gushing down the handles of his blades and coating Lance’s hands. Rohan seemed to look down at what had happened, took a moment to comprehend it all, and then he coughed up blood and stumbled back, keeping his gaze on his little brother._

_“You...you actually did it huh…”_

_“R-Ro-Rohan…” Lance pulled the daggers out forgetting it would only make the bleeding worse. He looked at his hands, drenched with his own brother’s blood, the color drained from his own face now. “I-I didn’t m-mean...I-I...I didn’t…”_

_Rohan said nothing else as he choked up more blood. Lance wanted to run to him, to help him, to carry him to base so a medic could fix him up and it would all be okay, but he was frozen, staring down at the bloody body in the dark room. He didn’t know how, but he could sense no life coming from his brother’s body._

_Lance looked to where the man had been tied up and to his horror, the chair was knocked over and empty. The next moment, he heard the shouts of a mob growing closer to the house, angry shouting and clambering of weapons coming his way. Lance was reaching for his brother’s body when he heard the door to the house burst open and then, he was gone. Out the window, his brother had slipped into in the first place._

_Lance would run into the forest, through the underbrush and over fallen trees and down steep impasses until his legs could carry him no further. For a moment he was followed by the villagers looking for the thieves that had attacked their village but he outpaced them, of course, he would outpace them. He collapsed by a river as the sun began to rise in the sky. He was out of breath but he reeked of blood so badly that rather than drink, he shoved his hands into the cold water._

_But if he was to say that moment made him a killer, it would be a lie. He had killed before, over and over since he was a mere child. For so long he had tried to ignore it, hoping he would grow numb as those around him had, but he had stolen so many lives that it seemed no matter how hard he scrubbed, the blood would not wash off his hands._

_“I’m sorry! Rohan I’m sorry!” He wailed into the dawn, tears streaming down his cheeks, mixing with his own blood._

“I’M SORRY!” Lance screamed as he re-lived that night, blood and tears coating his face just as it had that night. His voice was too strained to properly scream anymore and he felt the last bit of strength he had to lock Valora out crumble like a house of cards. All he could do now was sob.

“...I’m sorry I had to do that to you” Valora’s voice came like a bell chime. “But you can rest now,” With the rift wide open, her soul began to slip into his body without anymore struggle. Lance, barely hanging onto consciousness now, felt her presence almost welcoming.

Valora was almost finished manifesting within the cleric before she heard a nearly inhuman scream rip through the air.

“VALORA!” The rough version of a normal silk-like voice screamed her name in anger as an Eldritch blast shot through the air, striking her as she transferred her spirit inside. She winced in pain and looked up at the source. 

“Oh, my gods...” She realized when she saw the bloodied figure charge her from the darkness of the southern hall, that she had failed in her first mission. But her possession had been interrupted by the attack. “Don’t just stand there! Stop him!” she commanded the four spirits around her to attack him before he could get any closer.

But she noticed they were nowhere near. She turned her head to see them retreat into a huddle near the western arch, looking upon her with fear in their eyes. 

_“Traitors”_ She then overtook the cleric’s body entirely. 

Cecil’s eyes widened when he realized he was too late to stop her from the possession, but he didn’t want to know what kind of torture his companion had just undergone that had caused him to scream like that. He watched as Lance’s body then stood up. 

“I forgot how stiff bodies could be” Valora stretched and rolled her neck out, her voice coming from Lance’s lips. “But other than that...Not much reason to complain.” She laughed and looked down at her new temporary body. “Now Cecil, I don’t want to fight you so just let me-” 

An Eldritch Blast hit her square in the chest, the shock sending her back a few feet. 

“All I have to do is knock you out of him, but I think he’d be okay with that.” Cecil didn’t like the idea of having to fire at Lance’s body, but if it got the ghost out of him it would be worth it. 

“Aren’t you curious what my goal is Cecil?” She asked as she circled him, Cecil keeping with her the whole way. “You...You should be helping me you know…” 

“Not interested.” Cecil was intrigued but he pushed it aside for Lance’s sake. He charged another eldritch blast in his hands. 

“...Have it your way. I guess you got your freedom in the end, considering you’re a warlock now. But I won’t walk away so easily!” Valora ran for Lance’s sword and grabbed it with a firm grip before she charged towards her former counterpart. She swung down at the vampire with the silver blade, but it was slow and sloppy, a sign she didn’t know how to wield the deadly weapon. Cecil dodged to the side but she punched at him, figuring out how to operate her new body, barely brushing him. She saw how bloody he was and could not help but wonder what he had done to the ghouls in that pit. She would admit that this Cecil...he was far different than the man she remembered. He had a mouth on him sure, but he was confident and fast thinking, nothing of the beautiful decoration he had been at Domik’s side. And his hair. His hair was grey. Just what had happened to him? 

“Valora you can still just pass on!” Cecil took aim and fired another bolt, however she was able to avoid one of them even as the other struck Lance’s shoulder. “We don’t have to be enemies like this if you just leave his body” 

“When did you leave? How did you become a Warlock!” Valora demanded as she swung again, growing in frustration as her target jumped back. “ANSWER ME!” 

Cecil took note of the pain in her voice and it dawned on him. Did she not know? Did she not realize what had happened to their shared lord? That he was dead as the bodies in those catacombs, that the castle was abandoned? Slowly, he began to realize what her end goal truly was. He dodged another one of her swings and got some distance between them. He didn’t want to kill her, and he wanted to avoid hurting Lance as much as he could. He took a deep breath and aimed as she charged him again. Another blast might risk too much damage, but as she charged into a cloud of frozen air, she fell to her knees, remembering what it was like to feel cold. She shivered on the ground, but tried to stand again. But Cecil who now sat on the ground not far from her watched her fail at this. 

“Valora. What was it you wanted?” He asked calmly, the hostility gone from his voice. He watched her writhe, trying to force herself up. Cecil locked eyes with the icy blue that had overtaken Lance’s green eyes. 

“I WANT TO KILL DOMIK” She shouted as tears poured down her freezing face. “I THREW MY LIFE AWAY FOR HIM AND FOR WHAT? TO DIE GROVELING AT HIS FEET!” Her sobs were like a banshee’s, but Cecil instead moved closer. “But look at me...I-I can’t...I can’t do it… I’d be too weak… He’s so powerful and- I’m just a spirit” she tried to wipe tears from Lance’s face but they kept streaming “I want to go home…” 

Cecil hugged her. She froze. She had the perfect opening to stab him in the back with this silver sword and make her escape, but instead, the sword clambered to the ground and she hugged him back, tightly like her life would’ve depended on it. It was the first contact she had felt in so many years. 

“Cecil? Why are you…” She couldn’t fathom why in a battle she thought was to the death, he would suddenly hold her close as she was at his mercy. She knew one more attack would have done her in. 

“I know your pain Valora. I know it well.” Cecil replied, his voice shakier than it had been in so long. He wanted to cry as well. 

“H-he deserves to die...for what he did to both of us…” She felt stupid now. Stupid for making an enemy of a victim like she was for so many years, stupid for leaving her mother and sister behind almost 40 years ago. And it was all that bastard’s fault. 

Cecil hugged her tight and whispered so she could hear. 

“I took care of that a long time ago.” He listened for her reaction, hoping she wouldn’t fly into another rage. Instead, he heard a small laugh as warm tears rolled down Lance’s face. “Even the strongest necromancy couldn’t bring him back. I made certain of that.” 

“...Then I think I can let you have that victory...Cecil Baranski” She sounded like some crushing weight had been lifted off her, her voice once again lights and lively. She pulled away a bit to look at Cecil. “I...I’ll let him go now. Tell him I’m sorry when he wakes up, okay?” she asked, as the ghost began to lift up and out of the Cleric’s body, leaving him unharmed, just sleeping as he slumped against Cecil who still held him tight. 

“Valora you can pass on now, can’t you?” Cecil asked softly as her full spirit was now free from Lance and floating before him. 

“Yeah...yeah, I guess I can…” She looked up longingly “Hey, I’m from a town on the coast of shore haven….one with a lighthouse...If you make it there, tell my sister what happened to me. Okay?” 

“I will. But how will I know it’s her?” Cecil asked as he saw a soft white glow emanate within her. 

“Ask for Lee. Lucia Lee.” 

“So, after all this time I can call you Valora Lee.”

“Aye. But now...I think I’m ready to rest.” 

And with that, she was gone. 

Cecil knelt there, holding his companion in his arms. It was a shame he hadn’t met Valora Windsor sooner. Then, the pile of metal and the man in his arms groaned. 

“Lance!” Cecil exclaimed as his companion stirred, the worry and fear rushing back as he looked him over properly now. He was banged up physically, but he was more worried about the mental toll of possession. “H-hold on. I’ll be right-” Cecil had begun to lay him down so he could retrieve his bag from the other side of the room only to see it had apparently moved across the floor to him. He didn’t have time to question it as he dug in to find one of their last three healing potions. He pulled the top from it with his teeth before he held Lance up and tilted his head back before carefully pouring the bottle’s contents into his mouth. A moment later, Lance was opening his eyes properly. 

Lance felt like he had the world's worst hangover and then got a concussion. His memory of the events he experienced leading up to and while he was possessed was hazy at best, but when his gaze focused on the worried red eyes that looked down on him, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“See...I knew you’d be okay.” he laughed softly “Come on don’t look so worried.. I’m fine.” Lance winced but sat upright. “Pretty weird experience...don’t really remember much…” He held his head as the dizziness rushed his system once again. “But I’m guessing everything’s alright now?” 

“More or less…” Cecil was wondering how much Lance would come to remember in time. “But we need to find somewhere we can rest for now. I don’t want to go back to that guard’s room or else we’ve lost an entire day’s progress… I don’t know what would be in the north and eastern archways but-”

“Hey hold that thought.” Lance pulled himself up and looked to the western arch. He saw the four weakened and frightened ghosts looking at them. “I know we had our differences but I said I’d help all of you. So that’s what I plan to do.” 

Cecil may have been shocked if this was anyone other than Lance. But of course, he would finish out his oath and help ghosts that might have been trying to kill him just a moment ago. He couldn’t help but smile softly as there was another series of warm golden light emanating from the spirits as they crossed over at the hands of the green-eyed cleric. Cecil made his way over as the last ghost stepped forward. 

“He says there's a small room down the Northern corridor, a tomb that never got filled. It’s not much but there are wards around it apparently so we should be safe in there.” Lance explained before he thanked the spirit for his help. The last ghost to pass on in the four arch chamber was a carriage driver named Wesson. 

Lance felt himself lose balance as he completed the final blessing as he was now definitely tapped out of energy. However, he felt himself sturdy as a hand wrapped around his waist and arm. He realized he was leaning on a vampire nearly a foot shorter than him for support. 

“Come on. Let's go check out our room for the night,” Cecil sighed as he felt the weight of the armor and the weight of Lance’s gear he retrieved weighing him down, not that he minded much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so intense to write as pretty much all of it I didn't even have planned when I started writing this. Valora was fun to write to balance this character with such a colored past as well as getting into Lance's backstory. Also, I'm a huge fan of Hellsing Ultimate if that wasn't clear enough during any blood rage scene.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Again any comments and feedback would be super appreciated and say hi to me on Tumblr @Gaycalculator!
> 
> I commissioned @unpheenix on tumblr for some Lance pieces! The pink sketch is based off his flashbacks in this chapter + a banged-up current Lance as well as an annoyed future Lance based off events in a campaign I'm currently in. Look for some bonus details on that ;)
> 
> https://unpheenix.tumblr.com/post/637038658142257152/commission-for-gaycalculator-thank-you-for-the


	9. Haunting Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil and Lance recover from their last ordeal in an untouched tomb with some much needed TLC. Although they are safe from danger, they're still stuck with trying to deal with the aftermath by reliving past memories in their dreams. However not all the memories belong to them, and not everything wants to be remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Abusive relationship  
> Depictions of Abuse  
> Physical Abuse

“So Cecil,” Lance began as the pair walked down the crystal illuminated hallway. He was slowly beginning to feel better physically, but like a ghost looming over him, the memory of what Valora had dragged up still hung over him. But he put it out of his mind for now as he came to realize everything that had happened. All it took was a look at his companion to see that Cecil had his fair share of trouble. There were bloodstains in his silver hair. His shirt had been practically shredded, staying on him only due to the leather belt around his waist as it hung off his frame in shreds, not to mention the way it was soaked in blood. While he didn’t have any open wounds he still had marks on him showing bites and scratches under the strips of fabric, another sign he had to fight for his life. “What happened to your shirt?” 

Cecil snickered a bit in response and looked up to the cleric. 

“Got thrown in a pit full of ghouls that wanted to make a meal out of me,” he replied nonchalantly “I made a meal of them instead.” 

Lance’s eyes widened a bit in surprise and Cecil’s face fell upon realizing what he said, remembering what had happened with the ogre not long ago. 

“I-I mean-”

“No no! I’m just happy you’re okay!” Lance quickly stopped him. “If you had to bite some monsters to do that I don’t care!” He pulled away a bit only so he could properly look at Cecil, bringing a hand to his cheek to look at him. “You look like you got dragged through hell and back.”

“Do you say that to every pretty vampire?” Cecil gave a light-hearted scoff as they rounded the corner, seeing a set of stone doors down the hall.

“Well I’ve only met the one,” Lance chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. For the moment, both of them were welcome to ignore the weight of what they had just gone through. It’s when they came to the set of doors that Lance saw it had no key, but it had a very familiar shape carved into the stone. 

“Cecil isn’t that another ruby cutout?” Lance asked upon looking closer, recognizing the shape from the library door. He looked to the vampire and saw him retrieving the same key he had used so many times. 

“It’s strange that it would be on a tomb like this. Only certain people were allowed to have one of these… Maybe it was to make sure no one would tamper with this body,” Cecil said as he pressed the ruby to the keyhole and the red glow filled the carvings that branched out from the gem’s cutout. “Wonder who was supposed to go in here.” 

With a groan, the doors opened into an untouched tomb. It was pitch black but with their darkvision, both Lance and Cecil could see around the room enough to make out two sets of candelabras that stood at opposite sides of the room. Lance handed Cecil a tinderbox and the pair went to light the candles that had gone untouched. As the fourteen candles were lit it filled the room with a soft and warm glow which finally let them see clearly around the tomb. Rather than seeing cobweb-covered skeletons and weapons littering the floor or something waiting to attack them from the darkness, it was an untouched beautiful tomb. Purple velvet curtains draped down all four walls and in the center of the room atop a pedestal sat a black coffin. Cecil was quiet as they looked around, the vampire running his hand across the stone walls as he traversed the room. He looked a bit transfixed. 

_ “Who was supposed to be here?”  _ The former courtesan had not the slightest clue. 

Meanwhile, Lance’s focus fell on the ornate coffin in front of him. He could see deep red rubies adorning the sides of the black box, much like the key Cecil carried. He approached it cautiously and saw pointed spires on all five corners of the lid. Unlike a normal wooden coffin, the lid was raised with detailed carvings of thorny spirals and roses. Instead of wood, it was made of cold black stone that had a thin layer of dust that collected as the cleric ran his hand along the surface, feeling every grooved detail under his fingers. It was when he got to the top he felt the etching of symbols inscribed down the middle of the coffin lid.

_ “What does this say…?”  _ Lance tried to feel out the shape of the unfamiliar runes but then he heard a clattering, shooting his head up. 

Cecil was struggling to open the lid rather unceremoniously with a strangled groan of effort as the stone rubbed against itself with a creek. 

“What are you doing?” Lance whispered as if he was afraid they were going to wake something up. 

“I’m checking to see if it really is an empty tomb. I don’t want to get jumped by something cranky from its nap,” He shoved the stone to the side with a huff of exertion, opening the lid enough for them to look inside before dropping his arms to his side and trying to catch his breath. “But I don’t think anything half-rotted would...be able to open that…” 

Lance moved to look inside the coffin and sure enough, the tomb was empty just as the ghost had told them. But this coffin was peculiar. It was lined with cushioned crimson velvet and had no scent of decay clinging anywhere, but that was not the strange part. It seemed that the coffin was deeper than the average humanoid would need, and it wasn’t too long either, about the height of an average human woman. From the inside, Lance could see something like a point hanging from the inner side of the lid as a stalactite would hang from the roof of a cave. He managed to slide his arm through the slit to touch it and in the process, he pricked his finger on the tip of the spike. He snatched his arm back and saw a touch of blood forming on the pad of his finger. Strangely enough, the point was hanging directly above where the chest of the corpse would lay. 

“This is bizarre,” Lance said under his breath as he knelt down to take a closer look. He dipped his hand into the coffin and felt a soft padded velvet interior. His fingers then brushed over another set of runes that seemed to go around the inside of the coffin in a thin band. It felt like the same runes that he saw atop the lid. Everything he uncovered painted the picture that this was no ordinary coffin, mostly because these runes seemed like they could be a spell. “Well there's definitely nobody here but I don’t think that means it’s open for use,” Lance pointed out these small details to his companion. 

“Well I was hoping to take a nap in there,” Cecil sighed as if he wasn’t giving it a second thought. “Not that it matters much. Thankfully-” Lance looked up to Cecil’s voice as he moved the lid of the coffin back into place. He then heard a ripping noise and standing next to the wall was Cecil holding half of a torn velvet curtain that was dangling from the ceiling where the rest of it hung. “No one’s using this,” Cecil yanked it again and the rest of it came billowing down atop him. 

Lance couldn’t help but laugh as he abandoned the coffin behind him to watch the petite vampire try to find his way out from under the dusty fabric. With a cloud of dust around him, Cecil sneezed as he found his way out from under it, his hair sticking up at some points from static and dropping the curtain to the ground. He started dusting himself off which caused him to sneeze in a few short bursts. Lance laughed along but also found it cute.

“You could have helped you know,” Cecil sniffled, giving a half-hearted glare at the cleric. “Can you cut down the other?” He was brushing the dust from his shredded shirt which would’ve had better function as tinder at that point than actual clothing. 

“Are we going to make a blanket fort or something?” Lance teased as he only had to reach up to pull the curtain down from the hooks that hung it from the ceiling. 

“I don’t think we have enough chairs for that,” Cecil chuckled as he took the curtain to lay it out on the floor, creating a sort of cushion across the cold stone floor. Behind the curtain, there was a circular mirror surrounded by a golden intricate design resembling lace, clearly just for aesthetics. “But hopefully this’ll do while we’re here. Now come sit down,” Cecil took Lance’s arm and gently pulled him to the cushioned floor. 

Lance followed his lead, the fatigue starting to set in from the days earlier events. He wasn’t sure if it was the dim, intimate lighting of the room that was bringing this hammer down upon him so fast, but all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for the next ten hours. However part of him was afraid of doing so, wondering what dreams his brain would choose to conjure up. His eyes were closed as he laid against the coffin pedestal, hearing a bit of shuffling nearby before he began to doze off. Some moment of time passed before he felt a cool cloth press against his cheek.

“I think we need to get you out of that armor first,” Cecil’s voice came gently as a breeze as he wiped the blood and dirt from Lance’s face. Lance opened his eyes to a pair of crimson red looking back at him, Cecil kneeling at his side. He saw a hint of worry behind that look but he smiled back regardless.

“Yeah, last time I fell asleep in my armor it felt like I needed a massage from a stone giant to fix my back.” Lance laughed as he sat upright with a bit of exerted effort, his armor beginning to act like a weight that made his bones feel like dough. Thankfully Cecil helped him. 

“Drink this,” Cecil pushed a waterskin into Lance’s hands, noticeably emptier than it was when they first entered this cavern. “Don’t worry, we have more in mine,” he reassured. 

Lance brought the waterskin to his lips and chugged the last bit which soothed his throat and lungs. 

“Thanks, Ceece,” Lance sat the empty waterskin down and stretched upwards. 

“Don’t mention it. Most people tend to get parched after getting possessed.” 

“Is that so? Well, that’s reassuring at least,” Lance laughed weakly as he finally turned to look at Cecil directly. 

The vampire’s silver hair was free from the ponytail and was still a bit wet from his effort to wash away the remaining blood. He also had apparently removed his belt and now scraps of a shirt as well, the articles laying with their stuff against the wall. Lance couldn’t help but watch how he moved around him, cleaning the blood and grime from his face with a truly worried and attentive look on his lovely face. 

“Ugh why couldn’t I just be a barbarian with no armor,” Lance groaned as he reached to remove his chest plate. However, Cecil had beat him there. 

“Well I can’t imagine you raging into battle with reckless abandon,” Cecil teased as he found the straps and began to fiddle with them, undoing the set of straps of the chest plate before beginning to pull it off headfirst. “You’d look ridiculous.” 

Lance sighed deeply as the pressure released from around his stomach and chest as he felt the armor lift off him, his arms following suit and reaching above his head. The cold air rushed against his hot skin like a balm along with the tight undershirt soaked with sweat. The straps holding his bracers then loosened around his wrists, relieving the stress around them. Cecil tugged both of them off to lay them on the ground and checked him over for bruises to which there were plenty, along with the snake tattoo that wrapped its way around Lance’s bicep. 

Lance said nothing as he watched Cecil carefully remove his armor, the vampire brushing his hair from his face as he did so, tongue sticking out a bit from focusing on the unfamiliar leather straps. Lance looked over him as well, finally able to take in just how much damage the vampire had taken in his fight to the death. None of the wounds were bleeding, in fact, they had all completely closed up, but there were still a number of marks strewn across his skin like cracks in a mirror. There was a cut along his cheek, faint but still present. A series of three claw marks ran across his pale chest, a ghost of what must have been a deep gash. Finally, Lance saw the claw and bite marks that marred his arms from shielding himself, being held down, trying to break free. It made Lance feel the sting just looking at them, he couldn’t imagine the pain Cecil was feeling in those moments. 

“So when did you figure this out?” Lance asked as he started to remove his leg armor along with Cecil’s help. He finally felt like he could relax. 

“I watched you gear up. It's not too hard to figure out.” Cecil replied nonchalantly with a little smile. He was relieved to see Lance wasn’t badly hurt aside from the scrapes across his face that had been there when he first found him in the main chamber. They had healed up with the aid of the healing potion he administered earlier, but the look in Lance’s eyes was worrying still. Lance peeled his sweat-soaked undershirt off and threw it towards their stuff. 

“Think you can cast that ice spell on me?” Lance laughed as he felt himself properly begin to cool off. 

“Didn’t know you were that desperate,” Cecil replied as he moved the armor aside, brushing his hair over his shoulder and showing Lance another set of scratches along his back. 

Lance knew his body was decorated with marks from sword and dagger, along with a few from general accidents. However, looking at Cecil marred with so many marks felt wrong, out of place, like looking at a work of art stained with paint. Could vampires scar? Lance wasn’t sure, but regardless he reached out and took Cecil by his thin wrist, preventing him from walking away. 

“Hey, hold on,” Lance pulled him down gently next to him. The vampire looked perplexed but followed anyway. Before he could say anything Lance brought a hand to his chest right where the marks were. 

“Let me fix you up okay? I know it doesn’t do much but it should stop any scarring,” He looked at Cecil with a warm but tired expression, his voice softer than normal. 

“Alright but don’t drain yourself too much.” 

Cecil knew that the marks would have vanished on their own if he had drunk more blood from the ghouls he tore through. If he hadn’t been so focused on helping Lance he would have made a meal of them before leaving that pit. Drinking Lance’s blood would have worked just as well, but he wasn’t going to ask that of him, not now. 

The soft glow of Cure Wounds illuminated from Lance’s touch, the marks vanishing from Cecil’s chest as he moved his hand away. Lance’s touch moved to Cecil’s arms, his touch healing the marks left by the ghouls' attacks leaving Cecil’s skin as perfect as it was before. His hand brushed over Cecil’s cheek before Lance turned Cecil to see his back, waving his hand over the slash mark, but surprisingly nothing happened. 

“Sorry but that one’s not going to go anywhere,” Cecil looked over his shoulder and flipped his hair back over, covering the scar again. Lance realized that Cecil’s hair was probably the reason he hadn’t seen it earlier as it draped over his entire back. “But thank you, Lance,” The vampire kissed him gently on the cheek again with a soft smile. 

“If you don’t mind me asking...where did it come from?” Lance asked mid-yawn, his eyes tearing up as he did so before reaching to cup the other man’s cheek. Cecil’s eyes opened wide before he averted his gaze.

“I...I can tell you later. I think you need to get some rest,” He sounded suddenly uneasy which concerned Lance, but he was just so tired. 

“Rest with me?” Lance asked innocently, voice still soft as he laid down on the velvet-covered floor. Cecil only smiled and followed suit. He didn’t need to sleep but Lance made it easy to indulge in. The petite vampire laid next to him and felt Lance’s arms loop around him pulling him closer before he felt the Cleric’s grip go limp. Lance was fast asleep now. 

Cecil watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling steadily with every breath. Lance was still so warm to lay against, in fact, he looked at peace, but Cecil could still hear how he was screaming.

Even if he slept like the dead, Lance’s mind refused to settle down. 

_ “Why do I have to deal with this. I just want to knock the fuck out.” Lance groaned after coming inside his dreamscape. He was alone there with only his thoughts and himself to talk to. He looked around and he was surrounded by darkness, sighing as he realized he was stuck here for now with nothing to distract him. It had truly been the strangest day. He’d been possessed by an angry spirit determined to use him to kill her long-dead master.  _

_ “I should have been able to resist her!” Lance shouted at himself, ranting into the void space surrounding him. “I’m a Cleric! I’m supposed to stop shit like that but look what happened!” He exclaimed a bitter laugh in his voice as the feeling of frustration and failure washed over him. “I don’t even know what happened to Cecil,” He had barely any awareness while Valora controlled him, but he remembered the way Cecil’s voice had sounded when he shouted Valora’s name. “It didn’t even sound like him...and if he had to resort to attacking like that…” He thought back to seeing Cecil crushing the bones of the ogre’s neck. “I don’t even want to think about what forced him...But I’m not scared of him I’m just...It had to be bad. I should have been able to help him but I couldn’t! I was just fucking useless! I’m just...Inadequate. Just like I was back home just fucking inadequate!” Lance laughed again completely exasperated. “Maybe If I wasn’t so inadequate Rohan would still be- Oh.” Lance went silent mid lament as the memories Valora had pulled out came raining down on him. In a way, it pulled him out of his self deprecating spiral for a moment. He had resisted Valora and her allies that helped hold him down. He had fought back tooth and nail to the point blood had gushed from his nose as she went deep into his mind as the only way she could weaken his resistance. That was the only way she could slip through was to find his most horrific memories, and that had to count for something, right?  _

_ “I should hate her, curse her soul but...I understand why she did it.” Lance fell back to sit on the ground. While his spirit had been in a suspended like state while possessed, he was aware of all Cecil and she had talked about in their brief battle. Valora was a woman who had been abused by a cruel master and lost her life because he never valued her life. No wonder she wanted to kill him. “I can’t hate her for it. There’s no way I’ll know the suffering she went through,” However, as he thought deeper into Cecil and Valora’s fight, he came to a realization. What had Cecil gone through while he was here? _

_ Lance felt a pressure behind his eyes and squinted tight, bringing a hand to his face to press against his throbbing temple.  _

_ “What the hell?” Lance groaned, why was he getting headaches in a dreamscape? That had to be impossible right?  _

_ But when Lance opened his eyes he realized it wasn’t just a headache. The space around him had changed. No longer was it a black void, but instead it had fractions of a memory decorating the room. A crowd of well-dressed people, flitting about in conversation. Looking around it seemed like the void had been made of fabric that had now had holes ripped through it, and what showed through the tears was the semblance of a memory. There were partial visions of stained glass panels on the walls, a raised platform with a few marble stairs leading up it, and the floor was adorned with a deep purple carpet. He saw a few pillars scattered around him, holding up a nonexistent ceiling. He saw no food but he saw how goblets of wine were in many of the attendees' hands. It was clearly a grand event, and it was certainly somewhere Lance had never been.  _

_“This isn’t my memory,” Lance realized as he took in the wholly unfamiliar scenery. He wasn’t even sure he ever owned clothes nice enough for a place like this. “Am I dreaming?” Lance wondered “Wait no of course you’re dreaming you went to sleep! What? Did I get tired of thinking about my life and decide to make up a party?” Lance went to pinch himself, but as soon as he caught sight of his own arm he froze. His arm was slender and pale, like a woman’s. Not pale like Cecil was of course, but a vastly different skin color than his own. He looked at both of his hands now in growing shock and of course, it matched. Pulling back in shock, he looked down and saw he was wearing a deep purple gown with a low neck collar and swooping purple sleeves. He reached for where his braid would be but instead he just felt silky long hair to which he grabbed a lock only to see it was in fact silky but long and black as well._ _  
_ _“What’s going on?” Lance thought but before he turned to flee through a set of large oak doors, he was stopped._

_ “Dear, are you looking to retire so soon?” A deep voice chuckled from behind him. He had never heard the voice before but something about it felt so familiar, and just hearing it made him feel uneasy. Lance looked towards the source and found himself looking up, which was also different, at an incredibly intimidating man. He was dressed in fine robes of black and red with no lack of jewelry, including some claws like looking rings on his right hand. His hair and facial hair were both white but it didn’t look odd against his pale skin at all, and though he was an older man he was admittedly attractive. But it was the pair of red eyes and cocky fanged grin Lance saw that told him he was a vampire.  _

_ “Not at all, my lord,” The reply came as if it had been pre-recorded from his lips and it was a woman’s voice. It was a voice Lance recognized as well.  _

_ When Valora saw his memories and possessed him, it appears she had opened a two-way street, because Lance was certain he was reliving her memories as the living Valora. Which meant that this vampire in front of him had to be Lord Domik himself.  _

_ Lance wanted to deck him across the fact but it was clear he couldn’t pilot this body as his own, only able to watch the memory as if it were a play. “I was simply thinking about getting some fresh air,” Valora’s voice said.  _

_ “Ah, well, the balcony is that way,” The vampiric lord stepped to the side and waved his arm toward an open landing decorated with purple velvet curtains. He felt a hand around Valora’s waist as he dramatically presented it and the feel of those metal claws pressed to her waist. “But first take a drink with you! Bloodwine always makes things more lively, doesn’t it?” He chuckled in a way like he was laughing at a joke no one else would understand.  _

_ Before Lance-- Valora-- could refuse, the Lord swiped a goblet from one of the passing servants and put it in Valora’s hand, making sure to close her fingers around the stem. “If we have no entertainment then really what’s the chance of living at all?”  _

_ Lance felt relief as the hand left Valora’s waist when Domik got distracted by another passing nobleman who he entered a conversation with. But as he stepped out of Valora’s line of sight he saw someone new who had been behind Domik the entire time.  _

_ The first thing Lance noticed was how long snow-white hair partially shrouded their face as they looked away from Lance’s direction. There was an intricately braided crown around their head but it clearly hadn’t done much to shorten the white locks that draped over this person like a veil. The second thing he noticed was their soft-looking pale skin revealed by a silk white garment that hung from around their neck before dropping to where it was gathered at two golden cuffs that wrapped around their biceps causing the silky fabric to drape down and pool around them, unclear if it was a gown or robe or both. It was only when they turned to watch where Domik was headed that Lance saw it was completely backless, falling just above their hips. They had a lithe frame under the layers of draped fabric and they were petite as well, and it didn’t need to be said that they were absolutely beautiful, Lance didn’t need to see their face to determine that. But there was something so familiar about them, yet so distant. When Domik was apparently out of earshot, they turned to face ‘Valora’.  _

_ “Valora, I wouldn’t drink that, or anything else here,” Came a soft but despondent accented voice. It was practically a whisper, really, but Lance recognized it immediately. Looking back at him was Cecil’s crimson eyes but, gods, they were void of his light. It was like looking at a ghost.  _

_ “Cecil?” Lance thought in disbelief as he realized just who he was looking at. He wanted to reach out and pull him closer, to look at him and see what had happened to him, but it wasn’t what happened, no, this was all in the past. But it was like looking at a completely different person, and it was chilling. Lance wanted to say something, anything, but as he spoke it was only Valora’s voice that came out.  _

_ “Jealous he’s not paying attention to you?” Valora laughed mockingly. “Don’t tell me what to do, after all I’m aiming for your position aren’t I?” She then started to walk away, unfortunately carrying Lance with her as she brought the goblet to her lips. However, he caught the way Cecil’s fist clenched as Valora walked away. Not long after, her stomach began to hurt.  _

_ Then the memory ended, and Lance was left in the void of his own thoughts, and to his own body.  _

_ “Shit…” Lance whispered and felt like he was finally finding the missing parts to a puzzle. There was no way that was Cecil...but it was and that was undeniable. However, it would have been more shocking if Lance hadn’t already realized Cecil had a dark and deeper history with this castle then he was willing to let on. It was the way Cecil spoke about his time in the castle that was the most obvious tip-off. The ever-present mischief and warmth would leave his gaze and he appeared haunted by something, or someone. He was his scribe, but he was also his concubine, his slave when it truly came down to it. Lance wasn’t stupid and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened from there.  _

_ But that wasn’t his place to ask or bring up, no matter how protective he was feeling over his companion. However, he wanted to go find wherever Domik was buried and take a piss on his grave. But he didn’t know how Domik had died in the first place… _

“I took care of that a long time ago.”

_ Lance remembered Cecil’s voice whispering to Valora, but just what did he mean by that?  _

_ He was too tired to think about this now as the world around him grew hazy, a sign that his mind was ready to shut down along with him. It felt like he was falling, but not in a terrifying way, it was comforting. But he couldn’t stop thinking of Cecil and just what had happened to him in this castle. What had Domik done to him in those 200 years? _

_ And then he was truly asleep. _

-

_ “Come on Cecil! Have you never danced before?” Zetta laughed aloud as she and her friend danced along to the lively music coming from the servants' quarters in the garden. The beautiful vampire seemed to be tripping over himself as they danced to the lively flutes and strings filling the outside air. The pair was hidden behind a series of bushes where they were away from the other's prying eyes. _

_ “Not often!” Cecil smiled wide as he hooked arms with Zetta as the two skipped around circling each other. He was clumsy, of course, but he was laughing freely, and that's all Zetta cared about at that moment. The other servants, if they had known he was there, would have thought he wouldn’t want to get the white clothes Domik kept him in dirty from the grass and dirt of the garden, but they couldn’t be more wrong. Dressed in loose white pants and a white swooping sleeved shirt revealing his midriff, he looked as if he belonged as a statue.  _

_ “Well you definitely need more practice,” She laughed with a bright smile.  _

_ Valora hated how Domik treated him down to her very core, the way he came back looking empty and drained, always making sure he had a duty to fulfill, even if it was just as an arm piece to gloat with. She knew how other servants gossiped about him, the rumors that flew about how other lords and counts wanted the white-haired courtesan for themself, how Cecil was the backbone of his magic. It wasn’t fair and apparently, everyone wanted to be blind to how evil it truly was.  _

_ That's why it weighed so heavily on her that she was planning to leave. It had been too long since she was from home, over 2 years in fact. When she had told Cecil, all he had done was hug her and promise she would get home safely, not an ounce of protest from the one who was supposed to be her master. But she couldn’t imagine leaving him here without anyone to protect him, even if she couldn’t do much.  _

_ When she left he would be alone again. _

_ “Well it’s not like I have many opportunities to, though I think I could swipe a flute to take home with you, I doubt it would be missed much,” Cecil winked with a bit of mischief in his eyes, knowing she had lost her flute when she fell into a river a while back on her travels. Zetta’s guilt grew deeper despite her smile.  _

_ But then the merriment stopped at once when Cecil saw the ruby ring on his finger begin to glow, causing his face to fall as he looked at it. Domik was summoning him now. Zetta watched his face and dropped into action. Cecil knelt and she began to turn his hair into an intricate braid as opposed to how he wore it down, plain as Domik would say. _

_ Zetta hesitated as she pulled her hands away from Cecil’s hair as if he couldn’t go if she still held it. But when she did he just gave her a soft smile.  _

_ “Thanks, Zetta. I’ll see you soon,” He said as if he was telling her not to worry.  _

_ He vanished inside of the castle’s archway, into the darkness of the castle that kept them all captive.  _

Cecil opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling of the unnamed tomb, and sighed deeply. It was just another memory from a long since past. He had found it impossible to fully sleep since there was still latent adrenaline in his veins on top of the fact he didn’t require it. Sleeping was a choice and his body didn’t want to do it it seemed, so he had let his mind wander into meditation. But meditation was a fickle thing and Cecil wished it was easier to ignore his subconscious. It must have been a few hours past when he sat up, looking down at the sleeping Lance, relieved that it seemed that one of them was getting rest. He reached down to run his fingers through Lance’s hair, but he stopped himself. He felt horribly guilty for pulling him into all this but he also felt thankful that he wasn’t down here alone. He also felt wrong about potentially leading on the Cleric. He cared for him of course, but a single relationship was never something he could fall into. Lance would never hurt him, but it was a feeling that Cecil didn’t think he could let go of, at least not now.

“It’s really been twenty years…” Cecil whispered to himself as if he didn’t believe it. Twenty years was a blink in time for the centuries-old vampire, and it felt like it. Part of him was still getting used to it. But he smiled remembering how that power felt, the power of freedom. However, he had to admit being back here was starting to get to him and he really just wanted to leave as soon as they could, cross the border into Magnus and maybe go on a monster hunt with his cleric. 

So Cecil ran his fingers through Lance's warm brown hair and watched the cleric lean into his touch with a short groan, stretching out before he rolled over back into sleep. Cecil figured there was something he could do while Lance slept so as to not get lost in his own head again. He got up and stretched back into an arch, somewhat regretting leaving his bag of holding on the upper level. He knew Lance could repair his shirt with a spell of mending but he still hated seeing his clothes get shredded. He just let the clothes lay for now. He decided to take account of what they had, knowing they were running low on water, putting it on his list of things to gather, knowing that there was a stream of freshwater that fed into a nearby river. He also found the two remaining ration packs Lance had, setting one of them aside for the cleric to eat when he woke up. 

He then went into his own side bag and pulled out his book of shadows, the arcane spellbook given to him by his demonic patron. Wizards called on the power of the universe around them through years of intense practice and study. Sorcerers were born with arcana and magic in their blood for them to call on whenever they found the power. Warlocks, however, Warlocks gave something much deeper, whether it be soul or sacrifice, it wasn’t as easy as some stories would have one believe. Cecil had befriended a bard many years ago who he still considered a friend. She had pointed out that for a person who held their freedom above all else, it was bizarre to make a deal with a demon and become indebted for life. But the answer was obvious to him. His patron had offered him freedom from control and those who could hurt him, and it was that freedom she understood herself. She wasn't any normal patron either, she was the one who responded when no one else did. One could say she was a weapon of revenge only used in the hands of victims. 

As he retrieved his book, he found the comb he kept with him at all times. Of course, it was vain and deadweight to some, but it was a comfort to the vampire. The black pearl comb was a gift from Zetta after all. Next to it was the thin, yet incredibly sharp knife that also never left his side bag. Maybe it was the comb, or maybe it was the knife that found its way into his hand, but he looked towards the ornate mirror hanging on the wall and it confirmed the dread mounting in his chest. 

Four inches worth of white hair had started to overtake the silver, like an invasive ivy clinging to a tower. The ends of the curls looked as if they had been dipped in bleach, a harsh contrast to the silky silver locks. 

“No...No not again” Cecil exclaimed in a discordant and panicked whisper as he grabbed his bag and began to root around for the blade once more. He had already cut his hair once back in the hidden library, but in the stressful events they had just endured, he had failed to notice it return so soon. For some reason, he couldn’t find the knife, though he had just had it a moment ago, in his panicked state, the anxiety mounting over him like a great wave. “Where is it, where is it?” He hissed before his nail brushed the base of the small knife and pulled it out in one quick motion. His hair was long, down past his hips at its full length, but with this cut, it would take it up to his waist, a change that would be much more obvious at this rate, but he didn’t care. 

He wanted to scream out in frustration and anger. For everything he had gone through, everything he had done to gain his freedom, even in death Domik still held on if only by a single thread. The simple color of his hair. His hair that was once black as ink that had turned white when he gave his body and self over to the vampire lord all those years ago. When Cecil had severed that bond between master and fledgling, his hair had turned silver grey and silver grey it would stay. That is, except when Domik forced his way back into Cecil’s mind and manifested like a plague on his psyche, building, and building till it risked breaking. And of course, being back in this place brought all those memories to the surface once again. 

Cecil pulled his hair up into a hair-tie, making it all one length which would make slicing it off go much smoother. The end of the ponytail brushed at his shoulder blades before he grabbed hold of it in his hand, leveling out the right place to cut the white hair free. 

“Fuck wait this isn’t going to work…” Cecil hissed again in frustration upon seeing he was at the wrong angle for a clean cut. He had the knife pressed against the locks as he tried to change his position around, but then as he turned his bare right side to face the mirror, he caught sight of it. The scar of three scratches.

_ He was already feeling ill by the time the series of executions had finished. Ever since Domik had allied himself with the Lady Lenore, they had made true headway in the capture and torture of would-be assassins or simply unlucky servants for information on their fellow aristocracy. Their poisoning scheme had gone off without a hitch, according to how they planned it. Since they wanted to kill two of the other aristocrats attending a gala put on by Domik, they had slipped a poison made of powdered silver and hemlock into their target's drinks before randomly distributing it into the many goblets of bloodwine that was drunk by nobles and courtesans alike from all the present houses. That way it would just look like a mass attack occurring at random, even if it killed their own servants. And of course, that's why Valora had to die, as collateral.  _

_ But now they had gone back to simple torture and execution, to which Cecil had to standby and record everything they extracted from the bloodied victims. It was worse than normal though. Cecil watched one of them pulled kicking and screaming into the traitor’s pit to where creatures at the bottom waited to rip them to shreds, a punishment reserved for a kitchen aid who apparently talked too much about the plan and took a bribe for information from The Countess. Others were taken to the maze through a looking glass, and Cecil sat next to his master watch as the aristocrats laughed aloud as panicked assassins tried to fight their way through for their freedom only to get worn down by skeletons or meet the ogre zombie armed only with rusted weaponry. It was just another drawn-out massacre, really.  _

_Cecil was growing numb to it all, at least he wished he was. But when blood from the final decapitation sprayed across the room, staining Cecil’s face, he felt this constitution collapse. Truly all he wanted to do was return to Zetta in his chambers and fall asleep and forget the things he saw these last few days._ _  
_ _Instead, he found himself walking alongside Domik into his master's chambers again, just as he’d done so many times before. The look in Domik’s eyes was one of exhilaration and arousal, running off the excitement of destroying more of their enemies and getting closer to the top of the food chain._

_ “Oh, Cecil, it’s been a good day. Your idea of allying ourselves with Lenore, I didn’t expect it to work out so excellently,” Domik laughed as he removed the first layer of robes he wore as Cecil stood obediently in another backless set of robes showing the flesh of his back and arms, his hair pinned low on his head. The Lady Lenore was staying in the east wing of the castle, comfortable and satisfied yet constantly guarded by her own personnel. Seems they didn’t fully trust each other.  _

_ “Thank you, my master,” He was also holding to his chest his notetaking equipment full of his recordings through the day. _

_ “Now, I want you to compile the notes you took through today and compare them with those recorded by Lenore’s attendants, though I doubt they were as thorough as you are, my pet,” Domik praised which did make Cecil smile back at him.  _

_ “Will do. I’ll have it ready soon.” Cecil replied, feeling a bit of relief wash over him. “I’ll go see to that now and start if I do I should have it ready by tomorrow.” He quickly explained, thinking maybe he could distract Domik from his ulterior intentions. Normally Cecil could carry out his conjugal duties without struggle, even if he wasn’t particularly excited to do so. But today was different. He couldn’t find it in himself to act as a concubine, not after thinking of the carnage he’d seen the past few weeks, how many lives were lost. Zetta was also to leave soon, within the coming months after winter finished out and she could travel safely. But if Domik had a job for him to finish then maybe he could slip away, just this once.  _

_ “Come now Cecil, you think I would have brought you all this way just for a briefing?” Domik’s voice set itself deep in his throat laced with desire. He was shirtless himself now, and the way he was looking at Cecil was with a look of hunger. “Lenore has found her pick of my Ladies so I assure you, my fun won’t be ending so soon.”  _

_ At first, Cecil didn’t protest when Domik pulled him into his clutches and kissed him. It was something he’d done a thousand times before, after all. Hands explored his body, pulling his clothing free to expose more. The pin was pulled from his hair causing it to fall down his back before Domik’s tongue ran over the scar of the bite on his neck. Fingers were pressed into his hips, locking him there with no way of protesting, not that it would matter much. Even if he wasn’t aroused, Domik seemed to pay no attention, but when he felt his master’s hands dip lower he, for some reason, found himself able to pull away.  _

_ Domik looked down at him, actually surprised more than angry. Cecil himself was breathing heavily as he tried to back up as well as he could for being trapped between Domik and the door.  _

_ “F-forgive me, my master, please forgive me” Cecil began, not knowing where this surge had come from. “But...But tonight I ask you to relieve me of my services…”  _

_ Rather than getting angry, Domik gave a chilling, “Oh? How come my pet?” turning Cecil’s chin so he looked directly at him.  _

_ “I-I don’t feel well...the day has worn down on me…” It was mostly the truth after all. “B-besides I have my other duties to attend to… a-and I would like to begin with that soon,” Cecil was standing up for himself for the first time in what must have been decades.  _

_ His gaze was locked on Domik’s, the courtesan’s heart pounding with anxiety, expecting rebuke in some form. But to his shock, Domik pulled his hand away and released him.  _

_ “I am not unreasonable. Very well, return to your quarters, my pet, and prepare for the coming day, but I expect your write up to be incredibly thorough,” He replied, folding his arms and looking down at the smaller Courtesan. “I’ll call for others to take your place, maybe Lenore will let me take a pick from those she brought along,” He chuckled aloud, but again, Cecil didn’t care.  _

_ “Of course my master, I will not disappoint you,” Cecil bowed his head twice as he thanked him, just waiting for his moment to slip free. He turned his back to Domik upon gathering his writings and trying to fix his clothing. If he was paying attention, he would have heard the jangling of metal nearby. Cecil bowed his head once he was ready and awaited further instruction.  _

_ “Just remember I’m letting you off easy because you are my favorite, my dear pet,” Domik said in a calm voice. “I’m sure you understand I would not be so lenient with just anyone.”  _

_ “Aye, master,” Cecil replied, not looking up.  _

_ “Retire then,” Domik gave his final command, and Cecil turned his back to leave.  _

_ His hand was opening the door when Cecil felt the slash of searing pain across his back. It felt like acid was trying to eat away at his open wounds, feeling hot warm blood begin to roll down his bare back. He very nearly screamed out and collapsed in pain, but without even a free hand to cover his mouth with, he could only make sure his mouth stayed closed tight. He didn’t even let a whimper slip out as he felt tears pooling in his eyes as the pain just grew worse, and worse. It was silver.  _

_ “And remember, be thankful I am so generous to you, dear Cecil,” Domik’s voice came from behind before opening the door for the other man, almost gentleman-like.  _

_ “G-goodnight master…” Cecil choked out as the tears of pain ran down his face and he stumbled outside.  _

_ The halls were empty as always and Cecil stumbled his way back to his room, his vision growing hazy. At one point having to slump against the wall as the burning pain spread through him, having to control his breathing as the thin white fabric he wore was stained deep red. He knew this wasn’t enough to kill him, not by a long shot, but it didn’t stop the burning. Cecil found the door to his chambers and he pushed it open, hearing Zetta greet him before he would pass out just past the threshold, hearing Zetta shout out and run his way before closing his eyes.  _

_ When he woke up, he was laying in bed, chest, and back bandaged up over his shoulders. However, his head was not on a pillow but instead on Zetta's lap. Her hand was resting on the top of his head as if she had been trying to soothe him gently, and now it seemed she had nodded off with a look of worry on her face.  _

_ Domik had scratched him as a grim reminder not to reject his duties ever again, and he knew that it had been an act of mercy as well. The scratches had come from the claw rings that Domik wore, normally as a last minute defense against any attackers. The ring itself was fine platinum, harmless to Domik’s vampiric skin, but the claws, they were pure silver.  _

_ When he sat up, he whimpered in pain, finding he lacked the strength to do so. Zetta awoke shortly after feeling him stir.  _

_ “Cecil? Oh, thank the gods!” She exclaimed and helped him up, leaning him against the pillows of his bed on his side so as to not put pressure on the wound. “How are you feeling?” She brushed the hair from his face to look at him with worry.  _

_ “It...It hurts,” He groaned from the unrelenting burning.  _

_ “I know I know,” She sounded like a mother trying to soothe a child as she stroked his head. “He hurt you again…”  _

_ Cecil didn’t respond but his eyes gave her all the answers she needed. Zetta was the only one who could see Cecil for who he truly was, someone who was scared and alone.  _

_ “You need blood,” Zetta said next, firmly and driven. _

_ “There-there should be some frozen vials in the kitchen...I'm sure you could-”  _

_ “No. No, there's no time for that.” _

_ Before Cecil could protest, Zetta had retrieved Cecil’s sharp-tipped letter opener and pressed it to her skin, slicing her palm so blood could well up through the cut, beginning to pool in her hand.  _

_ “Drink.”  _

_ Cecil had protested, not wanting to take advantage of her. Zetta pointed out just how stupid that sounded. She was his friend, she was there to protect him, and this was how she could do just that. So he drank.  _

_ He lapped the blood from the pool in her hand before cleaning the wound which quickened the healing process. After she bandaged it, Zetta began to undo the wrappings around Cecil’s chest. When the last of them were removed, Cecil pulled his hair to the side.  _

_ “How is it?”  _

_ Zetta’s heart sank. Yes, the wound was fully healed, but a scar stretched across his back, caused by the silver’s effect on his body.  _

_ “It scarred Cecil…” She gently reached out and touched it as if inspecting the damage to a cracked mirror. “I don’t think it’ll heal anymore…”  _

_ “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Cecil gave a sad chuckle and began to run his fingers through his hair as if he was simply trying to detangle it. “I-I need to get to work. Zetta, please go get some rest. You’ve done so much for me already, my dear friend,” He started to get off the bed and reached for a sheer hanging robe. But Zetta was being awfully quiet. He looked to where she sat on the bed.  _

_ “Come with me,” Zetta’s voice was shuttering, her gaze focused on the floor before she looked at the vampire with large tear-filled eyes. “Leave this place with me, Cecil. I-I can’t leave knowing you’ll be trapped here...He’s hurt you enough just. Please. Please leave. I promise I’ll keep you safe,” She sounded like she was begging him. _

_ Cecil didn’t know if it had just been the final straw, the final bit of abuse he was willing to take and brush off and move on. But he gathered the human in his arms and hugged her tightly, sitting on the bed beside her.  _

_ “Okay,” Cecil whispered back as the tears returned. “We’ll leave together.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really getting into the thick of it now and it's about to get real intense. It's shit like this I write that makes my friend call me evil and I deserve it.  
> Sorry for the late update, life's just getting in the way! Thank you so much for reading and any comments would be amazing! Hit me up @gaycalculator on tumblr!
> 
> I commissioned @xuune on tumblr for this piece based on Cecil in chapter 8 and Lance's dream in this chapter, It's beautiful so please check it out! 
> 
> https://gaycalculator.tumblr.com/post/638315082426843139/posting-this-com-from-xuune-separate-so-i-can


	10. Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Cecil bond while playing cards in someone's random tomb. Lance swears Cecil's cheating but he can't prove these claims.   
> It's a moment of calm for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:   
> Very brief mentions of abusive

Cecil now wished he had never said those words. The sharpened blade cleanly sliced the white from his hair, the strands gathering at his feet before the knife too cluttered to the stone floor. His knees buckled and he pressed a hand against the mirror, forced to look directly at himself. 

“Cecil?” Lance’s voice came from the floor behind him, groggy and half asleep. It snapped Cecil out of his state as he turned his head to see the Cleric sitting upright as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Possession hangover?” Cecil teased as he watched, flipping a switch as if nothing had happened. 

“I wish I was hungover” Lance groaned and stretched out, feeling his bones crack and joints pop. The velvet curtains were a comfortable addition but it was still sleeping on the floor. “The before events would’ve been more fun that way,” He chuckled.

He still remembered Valora’s memory, that snide look on Domik’s face, the feeling of the poison settling in Valora’s stomach, the expressionless, yet painfully despondent look on the beautiful white-haired creature that wore Cecil’s face. But here he was, looking up at that familiar lofty grin as his eyes settled on his companion. Lance was never one to pry but, still, he wanted to grab Cecil and ask  _ ‘What did he do to you?’  _

“When we get back into Magnus I’ll make sure that happens,” Cecil stowed the knife in his bag while it seemed he was searching for something. He didn’t think Lance saw. 

However, Lance was looking at something different. Near him on the ground, he saw an about 4-inch strand of white hair, and upon closer inspection, there was even more scattered about the purple curtain. He reached for it and upon closer inspection, it didn’t take much to figure out the source, of course, he recognized it. 

“Is that a promise?” He looked to Cecil who was looking through their bags again, noticing how short his hair had become. Well not short, but Lance saw a good couple inches had been cut from Cecil’s locks entirely. The white hair that now scattered the ground had belonged to a different person, and apparently, Cecil was trying to keep that person away from him...and that was Domik.   
“If you want it to be,” Cecil brushed his hair over his shoulder and glanced back at Lance. “I need to go get more water soon. There should be an underground source nearby.” Cecil then tossed a ration pack of nuts, honey, and dried apples his way. “God I just want some meat.” 

“You can eat meat?” Lance asked as he began to dig in the ration pack, popping one of the sweet dried apples in his mouth.

“Raw meat. It gets some looks in taverns but that's just life.” Cecil shrugged. Lance couldn't help but laugh.

There were so many things he could have Cecil asked about at that moment. He wanted to know more about Domik; what had he put Cecil through? What had happened to the monster? How did Cecil get free? Logically, maybe another lord had killed him in a plot and Cecil took it as an opportunity to run- though something about that didn’t sit right. But then again, what right did he have to ask Cecil these things? He was realizing now that when he had asked Cecil about his connection to this castle, just how many bad memories it must have dredged up that the warlock was trying to avoid. On top of that, Lance was realizing that Cecil knew almost nothing about his past. Yes, he had shared so many things that put a smile on his face to think about and shared that he had run from his home, but compared to what he knew now about Cecil’s past, it wasn’t equal. There was no reason for that. 

In the temples, he had been taught countless ways to reflect and meditate on these things. He had shared with other friends and mentors through the years, people he had grown to trust in their time together about this part of him, and Cecil was no different. 

“Hey, want me to fix your shirt?” 

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that”, Cecil grabbed the tattered remains of his shirt and handed it to Lance. 

“I’m just happy you made it out of there in one piece,” Lance began to repair the shirt with a flow of golden energy, mending the rips and tears while cleaning away the bloodstains. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, darling,” Cecil smiled and slid the shirt back on but didn’t bother to button it just yet. “I’m perfectly alright. But, honestly, I’m more worried about you, Lance,” Cecil’s gaze turned soft and concerned, reaching out to cup Lance’s face and gently run a nail across his cheek. “You don't have to tell me but-”   
“Actually I wanted to,” Lance cut him off there with a relaxed voice. “But quick question-” Lance pulled away and grabbed his bag, fishing into one of the pockets and pulled something out. When Cecil looked closer he saw it was a deck of cards. “Feel like playing a few rounds?” 

“I’m surprised you trust me enough to take me on in cards,” Cecil chuckled and moved to sit criss-cross before Lance. “Name the game.” 

“Triple shot?” Lance asked as he began to shuffle the deck. 

“Dangerous game, but sure. What are we betting?” Cecil had a mischievous, flirty gleam in his eyes as he watched Lance. 

“Let’s just use copper pieces. Lower stakes and losses for now.”

“Sounds good to me. Hopefully, you can pay up,” Cecil retrieved his coin pouch from his bag just as Lance got his.

Triple Shot was a card game popular in many taverns throughout Magnus and Shorehaven and in the dusty alleys of markets and trade districts. The object of the game was to have a greater value in cards at the end of three draws. If it took three cards to win, the winner got half of the bets, if in two, then the entirety of the bets, and if in one card, they received double the total bets. If they hit the highest total of 32 exactly, then they simply were awarded all the current bids with an additional gold piece from each player. 

Each person was given a starting card face up and as bets were added, were dealt a second card face down at their own discretion. However, these additional draws were a mystery to the player and they would have to trust their gut not to choke. They were free to hold, fold, or whenever they saw fit. Since the highest total one could receive was a 32, meaning that drawing triple face cards, all worth 12 points each or triple aces, all worth 11 points each was a disqualification rather than a win. This made it just a bit harder to win, or cheat. Once everyone had finished drawing, those still in play would flip their cards at once and chance would take the lead. If two players had the same total, then a final card would decide their fate, the higher number of a single card determining the winner.

When there was a dealer, their three cards were all set aside, one card up the others faced down. They could choose how many to put into play as they saw fit. This made it so many rounds could be played without big losses to the players or to the house, after all, it was a simple game all played in good fun. When playing with two people, there was no dealer, rather both would draw from the top of the deck. 

It was a game of low stakes and low stress, something everyone would be able to learn and enjoy while drinking and carrying on with companions. It was also a risky game to cheat at, as keeping yourself armed with high-value cards could quickly become a risky move causing more harm than good. 

Both of them knew the rules of the game well, and hopefully, it would serve as a way to relieve any stress of the talk they were about to have, at least that's what Lance hoped.

“Three copper pieces in Priest,” Cecil smirked as he put his bid in to the pile between them. 

“Sounds good to me,” Lance followed suit and then from the deck took his first card, and Cecil did the same. 

Both flipped over their cards at the same time and the round began. 

Lance had drawn a 5 of spades and Cecil an Ace of diamonds. 

“Well then feel like raising the stakes?” Lance tossed another coin into the pile. 

“If you feel lucky with that then I commend you, darling,” Cecil raised his bet as well. 

Two more cards each were drawn. 

“Okay, I’m holding.” Cecil turned his second card horizontally to prove he had officially held. 

Lance thought for a moment and sighed. “I hope that bites you in the ass,” He reached for another card, now totaling three. 

“Competitive are we?” Cecil chirped as both of them flipped their cards.

Cecil; 11 & 6.

Lance; 5, 4, & 2.

“Ha!” Cecil laughed triumphantly and took the 8 copper pieces currently between them. 

“Ouch,” Lance laughed softly but had a smile on his face all the same. “Alright, next round.” 

They discarded the used cards and started from the top. Bets were placed and face-up cards were drawn. This time both had drawn values of two. 

“So what were you going to tell me about?” Cecil asked as they both drew an additional card face down. 

“Oh right. I was going to tell you about what happened with Valora,” Lance added a copper piece to the mix. “It's just, I feel like I know a lot about you, your history with this place and all,” He didn’t think this was the proper time to elaborate on just how much he knew. “And you don’t know those kinda things about me.” 

Cecil was listening intently even if he was also contemplating card strategy. “Well, I believe a person’s past is their own. It isn’t my place to judge or criticize, even if some might look down on it. I can only judge a person based on how I know them, your past is never there to define you.” 

Lance relaxed a bit and smiled. He watched Cecil draw a second card so he did the same. “I told you I was raised to be a thief, didn’t I? My clan was the Lazuli Serpents, a nomadic group of thieves and traders alike. Most of the time we just stole from royal carriages hauling loot and gold, but well…other times we had to get our hands dirty...but when it came to civilians we avoided killing as much as we could. It doesn’t really make it better but...it was different at least. Also ready?” 

“Flip.” 

Lance; 2, 6, and a King of Clubs. 

Cecil: 2, 2, 8

“20 total baby!” Lance pumped his fists up in triumph 

“Yeah yeah take your winnings, Priest,” Cecil leaned back on his hands and rolled his eyes in false annoyance.

“Look on the bright side, you draw any more two’s,” Lance took back the amount of 4 copper pieces he had put into the pot, gaining nothing but grew the potential winnings for the next round. 

Bets placed, cards drawn. Lance, a 10 of hearts, Cecil an Ace of hearts. 

“Now that's interesting,” Cecil smirked. “But yeah, I understand what you mean. It's different when it's a soldier who signed up to risk their life. Civilians are different.” 

Both of them drew again but neither raised the bets with a total of 10 pieces now. 

Lance nodded. “All my siblings were, like- prodigies to my father’s legacy. He was the leader after all and my brothers and sisters were so determined to make him proud, myself included.”  
“How many siblings did you have?” Cecil drew a third time.

“My oldest brother was Rohan. And I have two older sisters Elaina and Fatima,” Lance explained “Elaina’s actually my half-sister but I have a lot of half-siblings. She was just the one I was closest to. And by half-siblings I mean from both my mom and my dad, it was normal to have multiple lovers and all. I know that seems unorthodox to some people but-” Lance shrugged. “It’s normal to me y’know. Even if there’s someone special you care about more than the rest you can still care for them while being open, especially with how unpredictable the life of an adventurer can be. I know my dad loved mom more than anything, and she loved him too. That’s why she left the life of a Cleric behind,” Lance drew another card after some contemplation. 

Upon hearing that Lance didn’t only understand open relationships but sounded like he would likely practice it was a relief, in a way, to the vampire. He didn’t need to worry about the fate of this bond they had formed. But that was far from important right now. Cecil was just happy to learn more about Lance. 

“Okay ready?” Lance asked with a grin.

“Go!”

Lance; 10 of Hearts, 8, 4

Cecil; Ace of Hearts, 6 of Hearts, Queen of Hearts

Cecil began to laugh as he collected the winnings. “Oh sorry to break your heart there Lance,” He snickered as Lance grabbed his cards as if he wanted to inspect them further, looking to make sure Cecil hadn’t enchanted them. 

“Sorry, darling, no tricks here~” 

“Sure,” Lance smirked as if he didn’t believe him. It was like playing a game with a trickster fairy, knowing there would be room for them to cheat but also not caring about them doing so. 

“I promise, I’m not!” Cecil laughed and held up a hand in mock surrender as he tossed in 5 coins and drew a front-facing card for himself, 5 of clubs. 

“You might have a silver tongue, but I’m the one who grew up with thieves you know,” Lance reminded him with a smirk. He then drew a Jack of Diamonds. The two added 3 coins to their previous 10 coin bet, making a total of 19. 

“But, I looked up to Rohan so much. When I was a kid I thought he was the coolest big brother anyone could ask for, always there to protect me and keep me out of trouble, you know? And he was really popular with the ladies. I remember there was this girl I had a crush on and he helped me get this rare flower to help me woo her, only thing was this flower was growing on a cliff face,” Lance began to laugh.

“You didn’t,” Cecil began to snicker. “How did that go?” 

“Fell off and that's how I got this,” Lance pointed to a scar that was under his right ear. “Mom was pissed at both of us.” 

“And how old were you again?” 

“Twelve.” 

“Makes sense.” 

“Shut up,” Lance was grinning now “Like you can remember being twelve.” 

“I only remember memorizing scriptures, so that's fair,” Cecil shrugged nonchalantly.

“But yeah, Rohan was like my idol. Except when my training started well...I could never beat him in sparring. I guess I didn’t really have it in me to go all the way.”

“Fighting isn’t in your blood is it?” 

“Yeah, and my mom knew that from the start I guess. When she saw me make a sacred flame when I was a kid I think she knew I wasn’t cut out for that kind of life.” 

The two of them drew again. 

“I’m gonna hold,” Lance decided after a moment of contemplation, changing the positioning of his bottom card. 

“Suit yourself,” Cecil drew a third card before he looked to Lance again, wanting to hear more. 

“I just wish I had listened to her...maybe stood up to my dad more on what my destiny really was going to be. Cause let me be honest I kinda sucked at being a thief,” Lance chuckled before they got ready to flip. 

Lance saw his second card was an Ace of Spades along with the Jack of Diamonds.

“WHOO 23 TOTAL!” He looked at Cecil who was just grinning back at him. 

“Look,” Cecil pointed down. 

A 5, an 8, and a Jack of Hearts.

“Fuck you!” Lance exclaimed with an exasperated laugh. “Well, this is what happens when you play with two people.” 

“Sure, blame that.” 

“Anyway, next round.” 

Lance went on to tell Cecil more about the training he had been put through as a kid as they went through the next round, adding eight to the 9 coins. Cecil had an indiscernible Pokerface which Lance wasn’t sure was good or bad when Cecil had a four sitting in front of him. Lance had a 10 of Diamonds. They drew again after Lance told Cecil of the time his father made him kill the injured buck, Cecil decided to hold. 

“Are you just so caught up in my traumatic deer story that you’re holding?”  
“Not for that reason, but are you sure you want to hit on that?” Cecil raised an eyebrow. 

“Duh,” Without thinking Lance drew again, and then they flipped.

Cecil: 4 & 9

Lance: 10 of Diamonds, Queen of Clubs, Jack of Clubs, 34 total. 

“FUCK,” Lance leaned back and almost fell over as Cecil collected all 17 coins. “Okay I give up-” Lance started to stand. 

“Nooooo let's keep going,” Cecil grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. “Don’t be a sore loser, it’s not very holy of you is it?” he asked, gently poking him on the nose as if to tease him further. 

“You’re either cheating or you’re just stupidly lucky,” Lance ran a hand through his hair. 

“Tell you what, next round we can look at our second card before deciding to hit. Would that help?” Cecil offered, willing to bend the rules a bit.

“No-nope not gonna let that happen. It’ll give you even more ability to bluff your ass off,” Lance pointed out.

“Oh you know me so well,” Cecil leaned in a bit more with a half-lidded gaze before pulling away with a flip of his hair. “Next round, darling.” 

Lance calmed the fluster spreading across his neck and shook his head to clear it of the vampire's charming gaze. 

“But yeah, the deer. I thought it was wrong to kill something we had no necessity for. I could have just bandaged up its leg and sent it on its way...but according to my dad it's the circle of life.”   
“If I may, I think you’re both right to some extent. It is the circle of life for things to die and other creatures thrive from it, but that doesn’t mean expecting people to forfeit their beliefs to force that cycle to play out.”

“And that's what my dad never understood. We have the ability to take what we want but also to stop when we recognize enough's enough. Whether it's hunting or stealing… opportunity doesn’t mean it's without fault.”   
“And here you had me thinking you weren’t much one for philosophy, Lance,” Cecil tossed in 8 coins this time around, and Lance followed suit. They drew, Lance an 8 of Clubs, Cecil a 9 of Hearts. 

“I have my moments,” Lance tossed another two coins in followed by another two from Cecil. “But well, this is where things are gonna get kinda heavy,” Lance admitted as he drew again. 

“That's alright with me,” Cecil replied, looking up from his two cards to gaze at the cleric with a gentle smile. It was comforting. “Take your time.” 

Lance thought about his cards for a moment. Cecil was most likely higher, but if he hit again he might go over, but if he held it would assure Cecil’s victory. But it was just a game really. He decided to hold with a turn of his card. 

“Two cards each it seems,” Cecil observed, his bottom card turned as well. “20 coins in all.” 

Lance; 8 & King of Diamonds

Cecil; 9 of Hearts & 9 of Clubs

“Finally,” Lance sighed as he collected his winnings by raking them forward with one hand. 

“Promised I wasn’t cheating,” Cecil discarded, but he didn’t draw again. Instead, he moved closer. “Now what is it you were going to say?” 

“Right,” Lance took a deep breath and looked down, but he felt a smaller, colder hand atop his own and it relaxed him. “Thanks.” 

Cecil nodded. 

“I was always too soft for my father, but I didn’t really notice others thought about me the same way. Of course, I did what I was told but never really beyond that. Hell, I refused to steal jewelry because I thought it might be sentimental to the person, something they couldn’t just replace,” Lance explained. “But something the others actually shared with me was that when dealing with civilians, anything that wasn’t out in the open wasn’t for grabs. Even if there was a golden safe in the middle of the room, if you couldn’t pick that lock yourself then you left it be. And we didn’t hurt innocent people without reason. If they attacked you that was one thing, but no one wanted to be responsible for tearing apart a family one way or another. But...apparently, that wasn’t something Rohan followed.” 

Lance felt Cecil run his thumb over his knuckles.

“It was... ugh okay okay,” He sighed and pressed a hand against his eyes. Somehow being forced to relive the memory made it a bit easier to talk about, rather than having to dredge it up from the pits of his memory, but it didn’t mean Lance wanted to talk about it. “It was when I was 18. We were near a mining village, gemstones, and stuff. It meant there was probably a lot of gold and jewels to go around. When we figured out that they were holding a small festival at night at the end of the week my father thought it was the perfect opening to sneak in when none of them would be in their houses. It was all about stealth really, go in and steal what we could and get out while they were all gone. And I did just that. I don’t even remember what it was I swiped honestly, I think they had like some silver and gem covered fancy cups or whatever...but of course I didn’t touch their jewelry or anything. I got out completely unseen. But I noticed Rohan was still inside his target house. I don’t know why I went in looking for him honestly. I knew he wasn’t in any danger he couldn’t get out of himself. Maybe I was just...Maybe I just wanted to be useful to him.” 

Lance had slumped forward, talking to the ground more than he was to Cecil. But regardless the vampire had placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze.

“When I made it inside I heard him torturing someone. I didn’t want to believe it but I was just standing there watching. He had this old guy tied up and was trying to get some kind of lock combination out of him. He said he was a banker so he had to have tons of cash in there but it didn’t excuse the fact it just wasn’t right! This guy could never have defended himself; he didn’t even need to be tied up and hurt that way for the code- Rohan should have just left it!” Lance sounded like he was getting frustrated as his voice grew. “I tried to talk him out of it and I thought it worked at first...but he just thought I was a pathetic excuse of a thief. That I was just another bleeding heart.” 

Cecil’s brow furrowed. Realizing that Lance had to hear someone he loved, someone he looked up to say these things to him. It was clear that Lance’s very nature would never have allowed him to go along with something like this for so long, and yet it was all he knew. It felt familiar to say the least. 

“But instead of leaving, he decided to try and stab the old man...out of frustration or something... Before he could, I tackled him and we ended up fighting. I didn’t want to fight him and I was just begging him to stop but he wanted me to prove myself and dodging wasn’t going to be enough so I had to use my knives to defend myself and-” Lance took a deep breath to calm his rapid speech. “And I closed my eyes to block an attack and...and the blades slipped.” 

Cecil said nothing but he knew where Lance was going with this all. But he gave a small nod so Lance knew he didn’t have to say it aloud.

“I didn’t know what to do then. So I ran. I never saw my home again, I never properly said goodbye to my mom. I-I don’t even know if they got his body back because there were villagers coming into the house when I ran. I don’t know if they got caught or if anyone got captured!” Lance was now admitting as his voice broke. “Rohan said I was a coward and I was a coward! I just-I just left him there and I left my family and my mom and-and no one knows what happened to me. I don’t know if they think I’m dead or if they think I’m a murderer but it was just an accident! I didn’t mean to hurt him, I didn’t want to hurt him! I should have done something but I was just-” 

“Take a deep breath,” Cecil’s voice became a soothing whisper then, reminding the Cleric to take a breath and calm down. In and out, one after the other. “Lance, you were just a teenager. You were just a kid. I know you never meant for it to happen alright? It was an accident.” Cecil didn’t know what good he could do here, but he could at least try. Although something about this story sounded...familiar. “And even if you ran, you ran towards a place you belong didn’t you? You found your path on your own, you’re working at what you see as redemption.” Cecil looked at Lance’s watery emerald eyes and smiled. “You were a scared kid forced into a situation you never should have been in. It's how life goes. But between you and me, I don’t think Rohan or your family would ever hate you.” 

“But I don’t know if something else happened because of me. I mean we weren’t too far from Bridgewater and-” 

“Bridgewater?” 

“Yeah. The town in the south towards Shorehaven. There's a military outpost there s-so I wonder if they got captured…” 

“Lance I don’t think that's the case,” Cecil's voice sounded a bit more hopeful and Lance perked up. “I don’t know if this is worth much, but if this happened about 6 years ago..” Cecil did the math in his head. “I think I was around there at that time too. I heard something about an incident in a mining village nearby with a group of thieves but apparently, they agreed to let any of the captured thieves go in exchange for the loot that was stolen. It was a trade-off, no one got captured or executed at all. Apparently, it was an elven woman who worked the whole thing out. If that was your caravan then everyone made it out alright.” 

Lance looked at him in disbelief as the weight of his words set in. Every fear that had festered that he had caused potentially the death or capture of his family, of his home, started to dissipate. He’d heard plenty of rumors and stories about a caravan of thieves and merchants alike that carried the mark of a serpent, but for some reason, he never allowed it to reassure him, maybe because his guilt felt too great. But hearing Cecil’s story, it seemed that all those traveling stories really were true. They were safe.   
“That...That sounds like something mom would figure out,” Lance let out a sigh of relief as if a weight was gone. Clearly, the guilt of what happened to Rohan would never leave, but now he knew he hadn’t caused any other grief for his loved ones. “Yeah. Yeah, that had to be them then!” Lance looked at Cecil, the light returning to his eyes as he gripped around the vampire’s arm, pulling him closer. “I never thought all of them would have gotten captured, but if it really was a peaceful exchange then-” He could find them again, he could explain himself, he could ask forgiveness. “Cecil, thank you,” He smiled and pulled the vampire into a hug. 

“Don’t mention it, Lance.” Cecil hugged him back and ran his fingers through the back of his hair gently. He was more than happy he could help the Cleric he had come to share a bond with, to find someone to trust. 

Similarly, Lance felt like he was able to walk freely just a bit more. He wanted to find them again, to set things straight. But the fear of learning he had been responsible for more tragedy is what had held him back for so long. Now that he had a beacon of hope he could move forward, this time as a Cleric of Enrasil like his mother had been before him. 

It was only when Cecil pulled away a bit that Lance noticed he had practically pulled the vampire into his lap. He was so light Lance hadn’t even noticed a change. In front of them sat an abandoned card game, something he could easily suggest they continue. However, Lance wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to keep getting his ass kicked even if he had won the last round- to which he wondered if Cecil had simply let him win that match, or if it was because he was just getting distracted by the other man with him. While this clearly wasn’t the time to think critically about whatever was between them, Lance stopped to ask himself what boundaries there were. He wanted to kiss his soft lips again and leave marks on his pale skin, but he didn’t know if Cecil would be alright with that like he was before their ghostly incidents. And the last thing he wanted was to make the wrong assumption. But if he knew anything about Cecil it was that he wasn’t fragile or something to treat like breakable glass, no he would hate that more than anything. 

“You’re staring,” Cecil interrupted Lance’s thought process with a press of his thumb to the Cleric’s bottom lip. 

“O-Oh I am? At what?” Lance replied stupidly. 

“Me,” Cecil said matter of factly. “What’s on the mind, Priest?” 

“O-oh nothing!” Lance sputtered, he didn’t think his staring would be so obvious. But no, of course, he was blatantly staring at the beautiful vampire in front of him like his brain had malfunctioned. Even after he'd fallen down a pit, been attacked by ghouls, climbed up, and fought a ghost, he still managed to look beautiful despite the slight unkemptness of his hair and the dirt that seemed to cling to both of them. While past Cecil, the white-haired Cecil, was also an otherworldly sort of beauty, Lance knew it was the gleam of mischief in his eyes and his cocky smirk that drew him in so. 

“Lance, I’ll say this once. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m not fragile,” Cecil leaned in a bit more as if he had an idea of what was going on in the Cleric’s mind. Cecil knew Lance wasn’t stupid, that he had most likely caught onto what life was like for him in this place, especially since he had been somewhat privy to Valora and his final talk. While he didn’t need to know the extent of what Lance knew about his past now, the fact he was trying to be so considerate touched him. 

Cecil had a habit of exercising some of his new freedom by sleeping around as he saw fit, for either profit or pleasure. But he liked Lance far beyond that, and not just the fact he was good at the job. He made Cecil feel respected and cared for, he made him feel safe. Maybe that’s why he allowed himself to be so vulnerable to the Cleric after all. He wasn’t some cracked and shattered glass doll that needed to be handled with fear he might break, and if Lance saw him like that, regardless, there would end up being problems. 

“I know you aren’t Ceece,” Lance’s voice was low and warm. He leaned in so his and Cecil’s noses were almost brushing together. 

“Prove it,” Cecil replied in almost a whisper. 

When their lips met it started off soft, a first kiss that wasn’t fueled by immediate lust and need. Lance noticed again how cool to the touch the vampire’s lips were, like the feeling of cold water against his own on a hot day. The sensation vanished as Cecil kissed him back with more passion, the space between them heating as Lance rushed to match it. Sharp nails ran against his scalp eliciting almost a purr from the cleric as he could now properly focus on the sensation. It wasn’t hard to find an easy rhythm as their lips moved against each other, Lance feeling Cecil then part his lips with a sigh. Lance tightened his grip around Cecil’s petite waist and leaned back against the coffin pedestal, pulling Cecil closer as he felt fangs graze his lips. 

Cecil felt safe letting his guard down and letting Lance take control just for a bit. Their tongues brushed in an open mouth kiss as he pushed himself closer. His hands again explored the dips and curves of Lance’s back and shoulder muscles as his arms looped around him, able to truly savor the sensation as he let out a small whine. Lance risked driving him crazy it seemed with his warm and seemingly innocent smile and a gentle touch despite how strong he was. He was charmingly dumb but also deceptively smart, easy to tease but always on his toes. Cecil dragged his nails across his warm brown skin as he brought his hands to Lance’s neck and jaw, satisfied by the small marks he left behind as he cupped his face to deepen the kiss after they both took a deep breath. 

Lance gripped the back of his thigh and squeezed, not rough like he did before, but enough that he knew Cecil could feel it. He felt the pointed tip of Cecil’s tongue push past his lips to meet his. Yes, they were indulging in each other partially as a distraction from the stress culminating around them, but it was welcomed nonetheless. However, it was as if they both knew they couldn’t let themselves get so distracted again. 

Lance, begrudgingly, made the choice to pull away first, catching his breath as he pressed his forehead against Cecil’s. He opened his eyes enough to catch Cecil looking back at him, the faintest touch of a soft pink blush on his cheeks. 

“I didn’t know you could blush like that,” Lance leaned back to get a better look.

“Yeah well the limited blood flow I had was preoccupied earlier,” Cecil leaned in and kissed him again with a brief peck. Lance couldn’t help but kiss him back. “But it helps that you’re a good kisser.” 

“High praise coming from you,” Lance had Cecil settle in his lap, not wanting to pull his hands away just yet. “Don’t laugh at me, but I’m kinda getting thirsty.” 

“I could have told you that.” 

Lance snorted and grinned stupidly. 

“I meant for actual water. I can go get it if you want.” 

“No no, you still need to rest,” Cecil lectured and began to stand up, Lance begrudgingly letting him go. “Besides I think I know where to look,” Cecil buttoned up his shirt without putting on the leather belt, allowing it to hang loose over his thin frame. He slung the two waterskins over his shoulder before bending down to kiss Lance one more time. “Finish eating your rations.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance laughed softly, leaning up into the kiss before sitting back against the coffin. 

“If I get into trouble just,” Cecil pondered “I don’t know, I’ll scream or something. I’m leaving the door open, but I’ll leave the key here with you.” 

“Noted,” Lance watched the vampire leave the tomb with a glance back at him, leaving the door open as to not risk either of them getting locked in or out since they only had one ruby master key. Gods forbid something happened, but at the very least Lance could get out that way. 

Lance was laying back on the velvet curtains inspecting said key once curiosity seeped it's way back into his mind. He turned it in hand, feeling the edges and curves of the gemstone before looking to the right and seeing similar cuts on the stones around the sides of the coffin.

“That fucker really liked rubies huh,” Lance said aloud to himself, remembering just how many times he saw rubies scattered through these catacombs. But it was this coffin that still drew his attention. He’d gotten distracted earlier before he could make out the runes on the lid. It was a bizarre coffin all around, something Lance wanted to inspect further. “It wouldn’t hurt to look again,” He said, standing up with the key in hand before approaching the black box. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! We're slowly inching towards the end and finally, I give these two boys a break. I actually made the game Triple Shot myself and created the rules and everything, even if it's kinda just a modified blackjack. This and the next chapter are going to be pretty calm but keep on your toes.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and any comments/feedback would be amazing and super appreciated. Follow me at @Gaycalculator on tumblr or instagram and don't be afraid to say hi!


	11. Ebb and Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance discovers a disturbing secret in the tombs and can't bring himself to tell a laughing Cecil the nature of what he's found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Past abuse

_ He watched the fresh blood dripping from the silver claws. He tilted his head back and held one finger up above his mouth. The blood pooled at the tip before it dripped into the Vampire Lord's open mouth. He licked his lips in satisfaction before looking to the door, where a small pile of blood was pooled.  _

_ “He better not make a habit of that little charade,” The Lord said aloud, removing the silver claws and placing them on the large dresser nearby. “It’s unlike him to refuse me.”  _

_ His scribe, his courtesan, was invaluable to Domik. A creature as lovely as he was intelligent was hard to find, after all, especially one with a penchant and knowledge of the arcane arts. It was over 200 years since he had first spirited him away, taking his mortality as payment. He had become his prize, a gem envied by other Lords and Ladies of Aetroth. Not only was he beautiful, he was brilliant and he was desperate for freedom, so much so he had sacrificed his own mortality once before. But that's just the problem with keeping a pet that was too smart for his own good, isn’t it? Not to say he hadn’t loved the sharp tongue wit and confidence that emanated from his scribe in the first few decades he was there, but unfortunately, it was too much the sign of a rebellious spirit. So he had broken him. After all, the wild and untamed spirit of a wild stallion was a thing of majesty, but an efficient and loyal horse was much more useful in the long run.  _

_ It was never a lie that Cecil was his favorite. In fact, he cared about him in a sick and twisted way, never wanting to see him leave his side. But after all this time cultivating loyalty, dependency, fostering the feeling of isolation and reliance, it seemed he hadn’t put out every bit of the flame. It was a nuisance, but one he was willing to overlook for now at least. The solution was simple really. All he had to do now was choke the leash back, but this time he had to make sure to hold the collar.  _

_ - _

All Cecil had to do was listen closely for the sounds of rushing water. It would be past the four arches into the Eastern hall if memory served him correctly. The walk there was quiet and lonely. He never had the feeling of being watched but part of him wishes a ghost would stop him for conversation. But at least Lance was alright. 

_ “Even if you give me permission to leave that doesn’t mean they’ll let you just waltz out with me. We need a way to smuggle you out and get you far away before they even notice you’re gone.”  _

_ “Zetta I don’t know if we should do this. I don’t want to risk your freedom just so I-”  _

_ “Not another word Cecil Baranski! It’s going to be a cold day in hell before I leave you here any longer. So use that big head of yours.”  _

_ “...There’s an underground water source from where the castle pumps up its water supply. There’s a way to get to it through the tombs actually. It then feeds into the swamplands and the Adamantine river which should flow all the way into Magnus. Maybe I could find a way to leave through there and then follow the river.”  _

_ “Maybe but I think that would take way too long and it’s too risky. You’d have to get into safety really quick and with all that swamp it would put you way too far from that. And honestly nowhere in Aetroth would be secure.”  _

_ “Yeah. You’re right. We’ll have to think of something else then.”  _

_ “We’ll figure it out!”  _

Cecil sighed deeply as the sound of rushing water grew louder. After passing through the arch, he came to a cliff drop and looked down at a wide flow of clear calm water. It wasn’t too deep actually, and the thin set of carved stairs led him all the way down, it was shockingly easy. He looked around for remains, signs of monsters, or former guard posts. Nothing. It was entirely clear. Cecil couldn’t help but whisper to himself;

“Maybe If I went this way it would’ve been alright.” 

He rolled up his sleeves and knelt down and dipped the first waterskin into the water. Slowly, it filled until the animal skin pouch was full and swollen. He repeated the process with the second, feeling the cold water soothe his skin as he dipped his hands into the water. After he finished he dipped his hands back into the stream to drink but found himself staring at his reflection in the settled pool. His hair fell down the sides of his face, his crimson eyes staring back at him. It was times like this he missed his blue eyes. Cecil frowned and brought his cupped hands to his face, erasing the clear reflection. He splashed the water on his face, feeling the cold water clear his mind. 

He did it again, letting his mind go and not think. He splashed water on his face, again and again, bringing it to his lips to drink and splash even more onto his face to the point his hair grew damp. The water ran down his cheeks and neck as the water soaked his white shirt. Then at an almost frenzied speed, he began to unbutton his shirt quickly and threw it off. Gripping the banks of the stream, he took a deep breath and dunked his head into the rippling water, his head and hair fully submerged. After a moment he whipped his head back out, his soaked hair throwing back a collection of water hitting the ground with an echo. Cecil was breathing heavily as his wet hair stuck to his skin and water ran down his bare chest. He caught his breath, the cold refreshing water practically cleansing his cloudy thoughts. However, rather than stand he sat back and reached for his boots, beginning to untie them before he got a thought. He smiled wide.

“Lance would love this” 

-

Lance began to inspect the coffin in front of him, again taking note of the craftsmanship that had gone into it. But there was just something about it that he didn’t like. It was almost as if it had its own dark aura around it, a flickering flame of arcane magic that gave it life. But it wasn’t like Cecil’s arcana aura, full of confidence and assurance. Instead, it was heavy and oppressive but somehow transfixing, despite the fact it was making the cleric feel like something was crawling on his skin the more he inspected it. 

“If I’m getting that kind of aura from it then it’s probably enchanted somehow,” Lance deduced as he stood up and looked down at the box. He gripped the lid of the coffin and with a grunt of exertion, lifted it off and to the side, letting it balance on the ledge due to an apparent lack of hinges. Once again he saw the long thin stake protruding from the roof of the lid, right above what would be the chest. The only reason it would be there would be to keep a body in the grave, as in one that was still alive. 

“Freaky,” He murmured, side-eying the stake suspiciously as if it was threatening him. He turned his attention inside the casket. The walls were cushioned and lined with purple padded velvet. He pressed his hand against it. “Cecil was right, this would probably be nice to nap in,” Now he could clearly see the interior band that wrapped around the middle of the coffin. He could take a closer look now as he pressed his thumb against the runes. It was a script he couldn’t read or recognize, but he could make out that it was a repetitive set of symbols. 

“Why didn’t I pay more attention when mom was schooling us,” He groaned, remembering how his mom had tried to teach them various sets of alphabets. The best he could do was read elvish at an 8-year-old level. But this was not elvish and he realized he had seen it before. 

“Wait-” He pulled his hand away and shot his attention back to the lid of the coffin. Much larger this time, the markings that were etched down the center of the coffin matched the runes inside the coffin. He moved to the end of the lid so he could look closer, hoping he could recognize something. However, now he saw there was another familiar cut out at the top of the runes. A ruby cut out. 

“I’m gonna regret trying this,” Lance cursed his own curiosity and retrieved the ruby key Cecil gave him. He gulped as he hovered the ruby key above the carving, holding firm around the key end. He lowered it down until it made contact. 

There was a red glow that came from the crystal that quickly grew blinding as another set of runes began to appear under the first set atop the lid. The interior runes began to glow as well and Lance could feel the metal in his hand growing hot as if it was held over fire. 

“FUCK FUCK NO-” Lance snatched his hand back and pulled the key from it’s carving and dropped it to the floor with a clatter. “YEAH BAD IDEA,” he began shaking his hand and blowing on it as if it would soothe the burning. “YEAH LANCE SHOVE THE SKELETON KEY INTO A COFFIN THAT’S A GOOD IDEA FUCK,” He lamented as the burn began to subside, feeling like a whole idiot. 

He looked back at the lid and saw that the glowing runes that formed began to fade, like the glow of a gas lamp as the flame went out. He ignored the burn and rushed forward to inspect it before it vanished. The language matched the rest of the runes but of course, Lance couldn’t read it. But he got an idea. 

“Shit shit okay-” Lance grabbed his bag and pulled out a stray piece of parchment but quickly realized he didn’t have anything to write with. “Fuckfuck don’t vanish don’t-” Another idea rushed forward along with the burn on his hand. “Oh can one of you, help me out here!” He decided to slap the parchment atop the rune and pray like a Cleric normally should. Though this wasn’t the most pious thing to pray for, he didn’t care. After a few moments, the glowing subsided along with the heat and burning that emanated through the paper. Lance took a deep breath as it was over and was so thankful something hadn’t dropped down from the ceiling or come out of the wall. He pulled the piece of paper back, flipping it over hoping his idea worked. 

“Well, it kinda worked…” Lance observed the marks that had burned into the paper. While it wasn’t the entire script, it was partial letters and words. With the glowing runes completely vanished and definitely not willing to put the ruby back in the hole, it was good enough.

“Okay could’ve gone worse. Not gonna poke around strange coffins anymore,” Lance talked to himself, folding up the paper with the intention to ask Cecil about it later, hoping maybe he had learned a language or two with the amount he’d been around. Lance slid the paper back into his pack and decided to start cleaning up a bit. He put his shirt back on and re-tied his boots before putting away the set of cards and coins from their game, pondering if he should snatch any of Cecil’s coins to cover his losses. “Oh shit yeah the key,” Lance suddenly remembered, grabbing the key from the ground and tucking it back into Cecil’s shoulder bag. He also decided he wouldn’t take any of Cecil’s supposedly “fairly” won earnings, he’d just have to win them back fair and square. 

“Wait, where is he?” Lance felt as if too much time had passed since Cecil had headed out. Suddenly, he became worried. If he had gotten into trouble Lance felt like he would’ve been able to hear something, but then again a tomb didn’t always have the best sound flow. “Cecil please please don’t get killed out there” Lance shoved any of Cecil’s remaining things into his shoulder bag as he decided he was going to go out and find him. “I mean he should be fine he’s powerful as hell but-” Lance fell back on his ass and began to strap his armor back on, starting with his arm protection. “He could get ganged up on and-” He threw his chest armor on and haphazardly tightened it. “He’s so fragile-” 

“Oh, so I’m fragile?”

Lance screamed as he heard the other voice and whipped his head around. Cecil was standing in the threshold now, cackling so hard he was leaning back clutching his stomach. 

“YOU SCARED ME,” Lance exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, I can-” Cecil’s laugh was absolutely a cackle and Lance wished he could call it cute but it was ear-shattering. “I can tell!” He was now smiling wide and caught his breath. Lance now could tell his hair was dripping wet and his shirt hanging open was wet too. Before he could ask any questions Cecil came over and grabbed his own bag. “Come on, I found something I think you’ll like,” He motioned his head south. “Don’t worry about properly suiting up just yet.” 

-

_ “Lenore has called me to her castle, but she wants me to only come with a personal guard. She’s getting paranoid,” Domik stood at the open window, looking in the direction of his allies’ fortress.  _

_ “Is that so? How come, master?” Cecil replied, laying on the side facing away from said window in the bed, a thin sheet the only thing covering him.  _

_ “She thinks that there’s a spy around here somewhere out to assassinate both of us. Refuses to accept anyone other than myself,” He sounded smug. “Believe me I tried to vouch for you. I swore up and down you’d never be a traitor but she wasn’t having it.”  _

_ Cecil felt the weight shift on the bed and a set of nails run across his arm and onto his shoulder. His hair was brushed away a moment later.  _

_ “So, sadly, I’ll have to leave you here. Really, I don’t know how I’ll go on,” Domik chuckled in his ear. “I’m sure Zetta can keep you entertained until then. But I do need you to finish a bit of work. The three days I’ll be gone should be enough,” He ran his thumb over the bite scar on his neck slowly.  _

_ “Y-yes whatever you need done, master!” Cecil replied, trying to hide the excitement in his voice, but it was such a noticeable change of tone he worried Domik would catch it. Domik’s thumb began to slow as if he was indeed catching on, so Cecil took a deep breath. He knew a good distraction.  _

_ He swung his leg over and straddled Domik, the sheet barely covering him anymore.  _

_ “Well master, I’ll have to make sure you don’t miss me too much,” He feigned a seductive grin, fueled only by the impending promise of freedom. _

_ That’s what he focused on through the rest of the night.  _

_ - _

Lance looked like he was gonna cry from happiness when he saw the pool of clear, clean water. He had been ignoring how gross he felt from all the sweat and blood that had covered him since the last time he had a good bath. It was like the gates of heaven beckoning him. 

“Well now, are you going to get in or not?” Cecil stepped into his line of view, his shirt draping off him before he tossed it onto his bag. 

Instead of responding, Lance just began to tear off the armor he had thrown on, relieved he hadn’t properly fastened it. Cecil couldn’t help but laugh as he watched, pulling off his own boots as Lance tore through layer after layer of armor and clothes letting them fall into an unceremonious pile around him. Cecil was wondering if he should undress entirely to get in the water, but Lance who threw his pants and underwear off with no regard had clearly made up his mind. 

“FIREBALL,” Lance called as he bolted towards the water and jumped in, arms and legs tucked in.

“Wait, Lance, I don’t know how shallow it is!” 

He created a huge splash, sending water almost all the way to their stuff. Cecil decided it was best to just skinnydip and hope none of his clothes got wet. 

Lance was running his fingers through his hair to scrub it clean as he was able to stand chest level in part of the stream. Yes, his butt had hit the floor when he dove in, but Cecil didn’t need to know that. He then fell back and let himself just float there as he felt the layers of adventuring grime wash away. 

“You seem happy,” Cecil called from where he was leaning against the side of the bank, his hair pulled up into a bun. 

“Oh trust me, I am,” Lance replied with a relaxed smile, hands behind his head as he floated there, naked as the day he was born. He turned his head to look at Cecil who seemed to refuse to move any deeper in. “Come on I promise I’m not going to splash you.” 

“I think I’m alright here,” Cecil replied as he rolled his neck and let some water he cupped in his hand roll down his chest. Lance could tell that he was at least able to stand in that shallower area he was relieved he managed to overshoot. 

“Oh now that’s lame” Lance dropped his legs back down and swim-walked back over to Cecil and looked down at him with a smug little grin of his own. The water that was chest level for the vampire was only waist level for Lance. “You aren’t going to try and dunk me or something?”  
“That better be a joke,” Cecil looked at him with folded arms and a raised eyebrow but with an entertained twinkle in his eye. 

“There’s not much physically you could do to stop me from throwing you in, you know.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Done it a million times before. Been the victim of it a million times.” 

“What, did an Orc throw you into a creak once?” Cecil tucked a stray piece of hair back behind his ear, the tie clearly struggling to hold up the weight of so much hair. 

“Yes, actually, but-” Lance caught the petite vampire off guard with a sweeping hand that pulled him away from the bank and in front of him. “I was referring to when my siblings launched me into the nearest body of water fully clothed. Kids at the temple always loved getting thrown into the pools, except they wanted me to launch them in,” 

“Lance,” Cecil warned cautiously, even though a laugh was rising in his voice. “Lance, if you throw me in there I’m not using my teeth even if you ask nicely.” 

“Well, I’ll take that risk” Lance shrugged nonchalantly before lifting the vampire up out of the water as if he was going to throw him like a cotton doll. 

“WAIT WAIT LANCE I CAN’T SWIM,” Cecil shrieked but had faint laughter in his voice as he tried to lock his legs around Lance’s arm, but was clearly failing, abandoning the pursuit upon realizing Lance hadn’t actually thrown him. “You ass!” Cecil started laughing and kicked some water up at the laughing Cleric who dropped him to defend himself. 

“Wait I know, I know!” Lance was laughing as he raised his hands up to shield his face from the small vampire’s violent splashing.   
“How!” Cecil demanded through his own laughter that was trying to sound angry. 

“Lucky guess?” Lance began to retreat back into deeper water where Cecil’s splashing couldn’t get him. “Looks like I’m safe here~” 

“Oh no you aren’t!” Cecil began to give slow, water-logged chase, trying to splash him as he did so. But when there was a drop from 4 feet deep to 5 feet, he let out an undignified yelp as he dropped down further than he was prepared for. “Shit-!” 

Before Cecil could curse his own stupidity, he was pulled back up by two strong arms now holding him bridal style, allowing his head and chest to stick up out of the water. He spit out the bit of water in his mouth and his instincts grabbed around the figure holding him. He squinted any water from his eyes and shook his head and looked up to see Lance wearing an absolute shit-eating grin. 

“So you really can’t swim, huh?” 

“I hope you know how lucky it is that I like you,” Cecil gave the completely empty threat with a pouty glare. 

“So you do like me! I’m learning a lot now,” Lance teased back.

“Shut up!” Cecil gave a half-hearted splash with one hand. “What’s gotten into you priest?” He asked with a laugh. 

“I guess this just feels familiar,” Lance replied simply. “It’s like when I was a kid again, traveling and all. All us kids lost our minds whenever we got to go swimming,” 

“You said your siblings threw you in?” 

“Well, that was more of a birthday tradition. One year we even managed to throw dad via group effort.” 

“Having siblings sounds like a warzone.” 

“Oh, it definitely is. But hey, this time instead of getting bullied I’m skinny dipping with a cute guy so,” Lance shrugged “It’s pretty different in that regard.” 

“Is it really skinny dipping when I’m using you as a living life preserver?” Cecil asked, leaning up a bit with his arms still wrapped around Lance. 

“Well I’d say yes considering there’s still a wet naked guy in the equation but when we get back over to Magnus maybe I can teach you how to swim,” Lance’s tone was still flirty but his offer was serious. 

“You’re willing to stick around me long enough to complete that task?” 

“You don’t have to phrase it like that you know. I happen to like you, too.” 

“That would be a lot more touching if we didn’t already do it once.” 

“Figured that gave it away,” Lance laughed. “But really, Cecil, we work well together. I don’t think we have to part ways like some sad adventure novel. I’d kinda like to stick around you some more.” 

“Only if you’re ready to use your Cleric pass to stop someone from trying to chase me out of their tavern with cloves of garlic,” Cecil turned Lance’s face towards him gently. He wanted to kiss him but he still felt so guilty. Lance was too good a person to get tangled up with him. He’d already suffered way too much by coming this far down with him. He didn’t want Lance to get dragged into trouble just because he was with a vampire. 

_ “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”  _

It would be all too familiar. 

“Hey Ceece,” Lance’s voice broke Cecil’s spiraling thoughts. He gently let his legs down but still held him up against his chest. “I was going to say I’m pretty sure I can do that but you look like you’re thinking of something else entirely.” 

Cecil blinked a few times, still surprised how perceptive Lance could be. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I...I don’t have the best track record so far.” 

“Hey, if this is about Zetta…” Lance trailed off, hoping he knew the right words to say. “Well then I know she’d be proud of you and I doubt she’d want you to be all alone. I have a feeling I might get my ass kicked again by a ghost if I let that happen.” 

Cecil couldn’t help but snort, because he could imagine that entirely. 

“So don’t worry about me, and don’t think pushing me away is going to be so easy. I’ve been told I’m a persistent bastard, after all.” 

Lance hoped those were the right words. 

Cecil knew Lance was right. Zetta never would want him to be alone and now he was starting to realize he didn’t have to force it to be that way. He was going to get her home as soon as possible and then go onto the next adventure, a whole Cleric in tow apparently. 

“Thank you, Lance,” Cecil pushed up on Lance’s shoulders and kissed him gently. 

_ “Okay thank fuck I didn’t fuck that up,”  _ Lance thought as he kissed back. Cecil then pulled away from him just a bit.

“Now I’m getting out of the water but you can splash around to your heart's content. I need to be dry.” 

“Sure you can make it there okay?” 

“I can float!” 

“Prove it.” 

Lance laughed as he watched Cecil make it to the bank like a desperate leaf floating in a pond. The vampire flipped him off as he managed to pull himself out, not looking back as he went back over to their stuff. 

Lance enjoyed the feeling of being clean again for a bit longer before he decided it was best to get out. He couldn’t help but watch a half dressed Cecil comb his damp hair while being simultaneously impressed he managed to get on leather pants when he had yet to fully dry off. Cecil sneezed again as he dried his hair.

Lance was almost entirely finished suiting back up when a piece of folded paper fluttered out from one of the pockets of his bag. Upon unfolding it, he saw the runes that had burned into the paper.  _ Oh yeah I almost forgot about that. _

__ “Hey, Ceece can you take a look at this real quick.” 

“Mmhm?” Cecil somehow managed to make himself look put together, the braid returning as it hung over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Do you know what language this is?” Lance handed him the slip of paper as he tightened his thigh guards. If he could identify it maybe he could find someone to translate it. 

“Oh, this is Infernal,” Cecil replied a moment later.

“That demon language?” Lance should have paid attention more in cleric school too. 

“The very one. Lucky for you I happen to speak it,” Cecil flaunted. 

“Wait you do?” Lance asked stupidly. “I mean I figured you might know some languages.”

“Four to be precise. Common, Elvish, Orc, and Infernal. And I don’t know if you can call it a full language but I’ve picked up a pretty good understanding of Thieves’ Cant.” 

“Wait, no way, Thieves Cant?” Lance exclaimed. Thieves Cant was a dialect spoken by rogues and thieves, full of code and innuendos shared throughout the criminal world. Lance had grown up learning it. “That’s like the only other language I know!” 

“Well looks like I have a way to shit talk to you now in public.” Cecil grinned. “But anyway it’s definitely Infernal, though I have to say it’s barely legible.” 

“Can you read it?” 

Cecil glanced back down at the runes, Lance watching his eyes study them before widening in confusion. 

“Lance, where did you find this again?” 

“Oh, it was on the floor of the library,” Lance lied, but he had a weird feeling it was for the best. “Why?” 

“Well, It looks like my name. ”

Lance managed to hide the horror that formed in his chest. If that was Cecil’s name then…

“Hm, maybe my pen was running out of ink. I used to take a lot of notes there.” Cecil didn’t seem to notice it was burned onto the paper and just shrugged. “I can teach it to you, it’s a good language for Clerics to learn,” Cecil handed it back to Lance. 

“Yeah sure, you teach me how to speak to demons and I’ll teach you how to swim.” 

“Sounds like a deal. Now we got everything out of the tomb right? If not we should pass it on-”

“Oh nope nope! I got everything! No need to go back to the tomb.” 

Cecil thought Lance sounded strange but ignored it, maybe he was just cold. “Well that's good,” Cecil walked past Lance and ruffled his hair, grabbing his bag and heading towards the stairs. 

Lance crumpled the paper in his fists. His eyes were wide, his heart beating fast as he tried to calm himself down.

_ “That was supposed to be Cecil's,”  _ He thought. Maybe it was just supposed to be there in morbid preparation but it was clearly designed to keep someone trapped, not to rest peacefully. 

“Are you coming?” Cecil called from halfway up the stairs. 

“Yeah!” Lance dropped the crumpled ball and grabbed his bag and followed after him. He didn’t think he could ever tell Cecil, but it deepened the question in his mind:

_ What happened to you here, Ceece?  _

-

“ _ The design is flawless,” The Vampiric Lord ran his hand over the fine carvings in the black stone and felt the ridges of the carved roses and ruby stones under his touch. It was a work of beauty, a perfect chamber for someone to lay at rest until they remembered their place. But the finest touch was the infernal spell of sleeping souls who’s runes lined the interior and marked the top of the casket. It was a spell that would put the spirit and body into an eternal sleep, keeping them in stasis until it was shut off. It was a nearly flawless design, but if the markings were damaged then the enchantment would break. However, he had prepared for that as well with the metal stake that hung down, ready to skewer anyone who woke up prematurely. However, the finishing touch was the cut out of the stone lid that could be lifted off and give a clear view of the face of whoever was inside, like a portrait.  _

_ He didn’t know what had gotten into his pet but he resented his ever-growing, rebellious behavior, though at the moment he needed him more than ever. Once the Countess was out of the way he would make sure his little scribe would spend a few years ‘resting’ in a tomb of his own, protected and hidden away until the fire growing in him quelled. It wasn’t anything new for a vampire, after all, to hide away and sleep for a decade or two. It would be difficult to find a replacement in the interim, but he would manage. Good help was hard to find, but it would be worth it. _

_ Hopefully, Cecil would be more agreeable after his rest.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Any feedback would be incredible and don't hesitate to reach out @gaycalculator on tumblr! I've been experiencing some writing blocks and problems with motivation, so any thoughts on how you all are liking the story will really help me out of the rut! Thanks for all the support!


	12. Dust and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having reached the final leg of their adventure, the boys think they got lucky when they find some skeletons hoarding gold and jewels. Only issue is what put the bones there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:   
> Blood and Injury

“Wait you’re serious? That's how you got the necklace?” Lance exclaimed, walking behind Cecil as the two followed the trail he could see leading to where Zetta’s bones were supposed to be resting. They had entered the western hallway with high, echoing ceilings. 

“Yeah, she just snatched it off the guy's neck and bolted like a bat out of hell.” Cecil laughed “Really that's what he gets for being such a prick, thinking he could walk out on his side of the bet.”

  
“Ira sounds like a handful,” Lance laughed. Ira was the chaotic rogue and Cecil’s good friend who had helped the Warlock steal the Amulet of scrying off some gullible monster slayer. Due to the guy’s ego, he thought he could out drink and out gamble two of the trickiest bastards in Magnus. When he refused to pay up his bet of the Amulet in a game of Triple Shot, Ira had fallen on their backup plan of stealing it after the pair caused ample chaos to spread throughout a tavern via bar fight. She reminded Lance of his older sister Elaina. “Though I can’t help but feel like you manipulated your winning streak.” 

“I’ll never tell,” Cecil held his hands up to feign innocence. “But Ira would chew you up and spit you out.” 

“Wait what?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just that you should watch your pockets around her.” 

“It’s almost like you forgot I grew up learning how to pick-pocket.” 

“Then she’s going to pull you into a scheme before you even realize it. But what about you?” 

“What about me?”

“It’s not like you can tell me you’re some kind of loner beyond these walls Lance. What kind of company do you keep?” 

Party members and allies were crucial for many traveling adventurers, and Lance had been no different. After all, Lance wanted to develop his abilities to the point he could join a guild or garrison somewhere in Magnus, to find a place he could belong again and help people, but of course, he hadn’t started on that path alone. 

“Well if I’m being honest a lot of people I met in my pre-cleric days didn’t seem to like me that much. I was a bit too much of a goodie-goodie at times for them. But then I’ve got people like my best buddy Damien,” Lance smiled as he mentioned his closest friend. 

“Oh right, your friend who tried to stop that holier than thou Cleric from dragging you off.”  
  
Lance laughed. 

“The very one. Except he’s honestly more like a brother to me. An actual brother. Like I said he could have attacked me for stealing but we were both just 18 at the time. I lived with him and his family for a few years after that, like a member of the family. He was learning blacksmithing from his father so I helped with chores and farm work. One time his mom actually offered to pay me for my help but of course, I turned her down. Honestly, I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for them. But when we were both around 21 we decided we wanted adventure and to find ways to help people, so we set off. After a lot of fails and small successes, we met a swords master who saw the potential in Damien and took him under his wing. I didn’t see him much during that time but he came out of it with a giant sword,” Lance sounded all too happy describing his best friend, sounding like he was incredibly proud of him. “Yeah we were one of the best duos ever to grace Magnus,” Lance postured with a cocky grin, resting his head back on his hands as he walked. 

“Now that’s a shock,” Cecil rolled his eyes with a little grin and Lance dropped his cocky act. 

“For the most part, we only took on smaller jobs ourselves or found some good guys to team up with. But it felt like we were actually doing some good. Except I still wasn’t very good as a rogue. Sure I held my own just fine but I didn’t particularly like doing it. But when I became a Cleric the rest was history.” Lance then seemed to realize something he had forgotten and rubbed his neck. 

“Damien’s gonna kill me when he finds out I came here all by myself.” 

“You should be wondering how he’s going to react when you show back up with a vampire in tow.” 

“Yeah, he’s gonna be terrified of you.” Lance laughed awkwardly, knowing his friend’s beratement would await him back in Magnus.

“I’d expect nothing less from myself. Given I’ve never tried to hide my nature.” Cecil shrugged as they rounded a column. 

“Have you ever run into trouble because of that?” Lance asked, remembering how he had been freaked out and immediately assumed Cecil was going to eat him when he saw him. That seemed ridiculous now. 

“Oh of course I have. In the cities, people tend to mind their own business, but in smaller towns, it becomes a different story, especially where temples still hold onto their power. “Though there’ve been many times I’ve just been able to lie my way out of trouble. But in all seriousness, I do have to be careful when I’m alone.” 

“Have you ever thought of joining a guild or something?” Lance asked innocently, remembering his own path he was on. Guilds were independent organizations that worked both for help and hire, as well as a community for adventurers who previously had nowhere to call home. Sometimes they worked alongside the crown and the law but others were purely independent. 

“Yes, I have actually. I like the idea, in all honesty, I even have some allies in the capitol who’ve offered before. However I…” Cecil trailed off then, his voice softer. “I want to spend some more time completely free. No one to answer to, no rules I have to follow, completely free. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve been alive for almost 300 years but it feels like I’m still just getting to see the world.” Then he smiled at the Cleric. ”But give it a couple of years and maybe you’ll see me put in an application.” 

Lance laughed softly. “Well, I’ve still got plenty of the world to see myself.” 

It was down the western hallway that they made a new discovery. Bodies. But they weren't the bundles of bones packed throughout the walls. They were full skeletons wearing a variety of clothes and armor, mostly indicative of the humans of Magnus. There were one or two dwarves or elves, but it was mostly human men that still held onto their weapons and gear. Amongst the carnage, there were sparkles of long-buried treasure, at least that's what the best outcome would be. The skeletons were clutching everything from fine golden jewelry to bejeweled cups as if it was the only thing they could carry at that moment.

“It looks like looting.” Cecil broke the silence as he surveyed the hallway. “However, I doubt any of the other aristocrats would bother looking for treasure so far down.” 

“Are you sure? Because this whole place seemed pretty bare of any decoration and judging by that-” Lance coughed “-tomb we stayed in, I didn’t think it would be so like, naked.” 

“Well people have always been into grave robbing haven’t they?” Cecil replied, a bit tongue in cheek as he bent down and pulled a beautiful hairpin one of the skeletons was holding out of the skeleton’s desperate grasp. He inspected it for a moment before pocketing it. 

“And I take it you’re capitalizing?” 

“You think I’m leaving this nice stuff down here?” Cecil asked as he plucked off a broken dry digit and tossed it away. “It’s their fault for dying not mine.” 

“So you think these were just normal grave robbers? But how did they get in here without that key?” 

“Anything’s possible with a good enough lock pick. Tell me, Lance, how did you plan to make any headway here if I hadn’t come along?”

Lance pondered and realized he would’ve been completely stumped as to the giant catacombs below the throne room. “Wander around until something jumped out at me. But if I had found the stairs...I guess lockpick?”

“Well, there are alternate entrances throughout the castle. For example, I had my own way to get down to the secret library, but I guess some people just got lucky.” Cecil gestured to the bodies around them. “These guys found a way in and didn’t make it back out again. Now, are you going to help me loot?” 

Lance sighed but decided why not, it's not like anyone was using it. He eyed a rather lovely looking blade with a jewel-encrusted hilt. “I didn’t think there was going to be actual treasure down here. Other than knowledge that is.” 

“You’re such a nerd.” 

“Says the warlock!” Lance pulled the dagger free. It would definitely go for a good amount of coin.

“Hey if anything warlocks are the least nerdy magic users.” Cecil retorted and started to pry a cup out of some poor bastard's hand.

“You guys literally carry a book around all the time!” Lance exclaimed with a laugh. Cecil tossed a femur bone at him. “Oooh, better work on your aim there.” 

“So it seems I’m stuck with that little mouth of yours.” Cecil rolled his eyes and grinned in charmed frustration, pleased that Lance was now able to mock him without nerves. 

“Unfortunately yes.” Lance tugged at something like a crown before yanking it free. He decided to place it on his head and pose with his hand under his chin with a slight grin. “Is this a good look on me?” 

“Depends on if you want the hand there or not. If so I think it’s lovely.” 

Lance yelped and ripped the skeletal hand off the crown as if it was a spider. Cecil couldn’t help but cackle. 

If the two boys had been paying attention, they would have noticed the runes carved into the bones within the walls begin to glow. It was a space that had gone untampered for a long time, and they had just tripped the surprise that had been left for them.

Cecil sneezed as he kicked up dust again from prying a box from one of their hands, making the dust that had gathered on the bones puff up in a cloud. He opened it up and saw a menagerie of jewelry and decided it was worth it. 

“Bless you” Lance teased, finding the intimidating yet tiny vampire’s allergy hilarious. 

“Don’t patronize me” Cecil pocketed the jewelry box “You know, I wonder if these guys heard the same bard you did and tried to cash in.” 

“Honestly that was probably it. But what do you think killed them?” 

“I’d guess Valora but she would’ve tried to possess them, not kill them. So we can assume either she wasn’t awake yet or she wasn’t strong enough. However, a lot of her ghost posse seemed to be made up of human men. Maybe she picked up their souls after the fact.” 

“If so, I feel less bad about this.” Lance yanked a cool looking ring off some guy’s finger. “I mean I did help them pass on. But that still doesn’t answer what killed them. But they look like they were running away don’t you think?” 

Something about that made Cecil pause. Running away...but what was there to run away from? He took another look around the hallway, and something wasn’t sitting right this time. It was then he saw the faintest green glow coming from one of the chambers in the wall where the long-dead bodies laid. He squinted and saw a small rune was carved into the skull. His eyes widened in realization when they began to vibrate. 

“Fuck.” Cecil swore. “LANCE GET READY!” he pulled away as fast as he could from the wall, almost tripping on a skull as he got to the Cleric’s side. 

Before the pair could move even the slightest away, bones came shooting out from the wall glowing green, beginning to swirl around as if they were in a tornado. 

“Cecil please explain to me what's happening before I freak out.” Lance’s voice was already freaking out as he looked at Cecil. 

“I think I figured out what killed these guys.” Cecil groaned. “Some fucker booby trapped us with a bone monster.”

“A bone monster?!” 

“A bone monster.” 

“What the fuck is that?!” 

“THAT!” Cecil reached up and grabbed Lance’s chin, directing his head forward again so he could see just what it was. 

Standing about 15 feet tall and glaring down at them, a giant skeletal abomination stared down at them. It was not just a giant skeleton, rather a collection of skulls piled atop itself made for the head, the various heads moving and chattering among themselves as they were animated with the mysterious magic. The torso was built from a collection of bones, collections of ribs protruding outwards as if it was a spiky outer shell around the body. The arms and legs looked as thick as tree trunks, constructed by layers and layers of bones from the tombs around them. Sharpened bones made themselves into shoulder guards and its stomp was enough to make Cecil wobble where he stood. It was only armed with 

“Necromancy! I hate necromancy!” Lance pulled his sword, deciding there was no time to be scared even as his hands shook. “Have a plan?”

“Other than just wail on it, not really.” Cecil charged up another pair of Eldritch blast. “Just think of it as a final exam.”

“I’ll try my best,” Lance gulped, but charged forth with a shout of exertion, sword raised high. 

The amalgamation swung down towards Lance with both its huge clawed hands. The cleric was able to dodge the first by ducking swiftly and continued his charge. However, the second claw succeeded in knocking Lance into the wall almost on impact, knocking the wind out of him momentarily. Lance felt the claws begin to close around him as if the blade-like bones would pierce his armor if it tried hard enough. Lance managed to raise his foot and force the monster’s hand back with a hard shove before raising his sword above his head and brought it down on the joint connecting the hand and wrist. He made contact and tried to force the blade down further, but to no avail. In fact, it seemed like the sword was only a toothpick, and with a shake of its hand, it threw Lance back. 

“I don’t think swords are going to be the way to go here!” Cecil called out as he brought his hand forward, two bolts of purple energy shooting at the creature’s shoulder. Both the bolts made contact and the spikes at their mark splintered and fell to the ground, scorch marks left in their wake. The lumbering mound slowly began to turn towards the warlock. “Apparently I’ve struck a nerve.” 

Instead of a growl of frustration, the monster just struck the stone faced wall next to it, the shockwaves causing the stalactites at the top of the cave to crash down near Cecil. The small vampire was able to dodge out of the way of the crashing rocks and avoid being hit, but he realized he had been forced to move within closer range of the monster. The chorus of bones worked together to make the beast bend down and bring it’s clawed hand down upon Cecil like it was trying to smash a bug. And while it wasn’t nearly big enough to do all that, Cecil figured it could crush his head given the chance. He tried to fall back but not before one of the claws could slice open his chest and shirt once again. 

“Yeah, this shirt needs a break after this.” Cecil pressed a hand against his wound. 

“I got you!” First, Lance cast Aid, a healing spell that would help them both out. After all, healing was in his job description and it made the spell much more effective. Cecil saw the wound close up and although the pain lingered, it was still a relief. As soon as that was done, Lance took a deep breath and focused. He had a spell in his back pocket, something he had been taught at the temple. However, in all honesty, it confused him more than anything. Spiritual Weapon was something that all life clerics could rely on, but only now did he have the confidence and power to summon it without fear of hitting himself. He was actually thankful this guy was so big. 

After a few deep breaths and focusing his energy, Lance felt an extension of himself form. He opened his eyes and before him, there was a giant shield hovering above. A shield, that was the extension of his soul, born from his desire to protect. 

“I DID IT!” Lance exclaimed with a bright smile, and as if the weapon knew exactly what he wanted, the shield smacked the creature across the back of the head. 

“I’m impressed,” Cecil called out in praise, a laugh in his voice. “I knew you got stronger,” Since the creature was born of necromancy, using spells like Toll The Dead would affect similar to trying to chop an oak down with a hand ax. Lance couldn’t rely on his sword nor could Cecil on his vampiric strengths. The idea of trying to bite this monster made his teeth hurt. Since they were both relying on limited spells, Cecil needed a plan and he needed it fast. In the meantime, he would rely on his Eldritch Blasts. 

The blast shot forth again, Cecil using the two branching bolts to search for any weak points. The first made contact with the monster’s chest, trying to test for where the core of the animation spell was held, though it didn’t slow the monster’s slow turn to pursue Lance. The second bolt however made contact with one of the skulls that made up the amalgamation’s monstrous head. Like an archer hitting their mark, the bolt broke the skull free from the collective hoard, causing it to fall to the ground like a boulder, smoldering the whole way down. If Cecil hadn’t been watching like a hawk, he would have missed the way the monster’s collective movements lagged for a moment, as if its entire system was interrupted momentarily.

“Hm,” Cecil saw the skull land almost underfoot of the monster itself. He needed a closer look. “Darling I need you to distract it!” 

“Not that I love it when you call me that but-” Lance ducked one of the enraged creatures swings, but just as before, the second made contact, grappling the Cleric in a hold around the chest and shoulders and threw him into the wall like a ragdoll. “-Easier said than done.” Lance winced in pain as his body made a nice imprint in the stone, one of his eyes closed as blood dripped down his face from a wound above the eyebrow. However, he could see Cecil running for the smoldering skull. 

With a shout, he sent a guiding bolt sailing into the monster’s arm joint, wondering if maybe he could blast it off. Though the shot was accurate, the cracks he saw a form in the bones were quickly fixed by a glow of green energy. However, he was able to take out his frustration with a hit from his floating shield which struck the creature square in the chest, making it stumble backward and let go of the cleric. After doing so it dissipated. Lance fell to the ground and caught his breath. “Any developments on that plan, Ceece?” 

While Lance was ‘distracting’ the monster, Cecil had managed to grab the skull from the floor and inspect it closely. Unfortunately, it had been incredibly damaged thanks to the blast and the fall, but as Cecil fit together a few of the pieces, he saw a rune start to form. It was the same glowing green rune that had caught his eye moments before the spell activated. Then it all clicked. 

“Lance! Headshots only! It’s controlled by the runes on the skulls!” Cecil called out, quickly getting another idea. As he looked for an opening, he began to weave the shadows around him into a blade. “I have an idea.” He grinned. 

“Headshots? Alright, I can do that.” Lance confirmed while he bolted every which way, trying his best to avoid the series of clawed fists raining down on him. It was close call after close call as he jumped and rolled back to avoid the crater forming smashes into the solid rock. Every miss made the amalgamation tantrum further. The next blow came down square above him, and upon realizing he had nowhere to go, Lance shut his eyes and gave a scream of exertion, throwing his arms to grab the creature’s arm halfway. The two forces collided and Lance could feel his muscles working hard, straining under his armor as sweat and blood ran down his face. He grit his teeth before he focused his strength into tearing what he could off the construct. There was a loud snapping crunch and something gave way. The force and weight of what he held made the cleric stumble back, and when he opened his eyes to the hand and partial forearm of the monster splintered and snapped like a twig in his hold, a smile spread across his face. The monster recoiled in pain as the magic apparently did jack against that level of brute force. Lance couldn’t help but laugh as he threw the bones aside, the magic binding them dissipating and turning the partial arm into a pile of bones once more. “Well, it's not a headshot but good enough.” Lance chuckled as he tried to catch his breath. 

Cecil watched Lance physically break the magic that animated the creature with a move of raw strength and he felt his mouth go dry.

_ “Destroy me”  _ Cecil shook his head. “No no- Focus.” 

Forcing himself back into the moment, Cecil saw just the opening he needed with the aid of Lance’s little stunt. Blade of Shadows in hand, Cecil charged, his heels clicking as he did so. The monster started to turn, but the Vampire had already leaped forth and landed on its remaining wrist. With no second hand to grab him, the monster could only desperately try to shake him off, but much like a spider, Cecil clung on unimpeded. He dashed up the giant’s arm, making contact with the shoulder, and as soon as the first of the runes came into view, he took the shadow blade and shoved it into the skull’s forehead, shattering it on impact. The skull crumbled into shards and the monster stumbled back. 

From his place on the ground, Lance watched as Cecil destroyed skull after skull, the pieces crumbling to the ground as the monster began to lose itself. Pieces began to fall and crash to the ground and he could hear Cecil’s shouts of effort and force. He danced around the bewildered claws that tried to snatch him off, nimbly avoiding it as if it was a dance. Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit transfixed. However, there were dozens of heads with runes that animated them. Cecil had only destroyed about a half by the time the shadows of his sword began to break away. 

“Hya!” Cecil shouted as he dug the blade in one last time before the blade vanished. He flipped his hair to the side and took notice of which functions had been lost so far. The monster was losing control, bones falling and crashing in greater numbers now as it struggled to keep balance. Cecil felt his lungs burn, but he couldn’t stop there. His claws came out and he continued his attack. His claws scratched away and destroyed the runes one by one, but the process was taking much too long and the creature’s heads did whatever it could to stop him. The ever-moving mouths tried to grab hold of his body by biting down with all their force, but the most it did was bite down on Cecil’s hands until one of them got him by the wrist. Cecil snatched his hand back and saw how it bled, to which he responded with a swift kick to the head, making the skull careen down towards Lance. However, the monster’s hand managed to grab the small vampire in a moment of distraction, it’s clutch constricting around Cecil, claws threatening to break his skin. 

Cecil let out a shout of pain as he tried to struggle, but the monster’s stupidly large grip held him tighter and tighter. He tried to pull his arms free but to no avail as he felt the pain grow more intense. But then the pressure released all at once and he felt himself begin to fall. Instinctively he reached up and grabbed onto the body hand, the spell helping him cling on as he kicked his feet up to stand properly. He caught his breath and looked down to see Lance with an outstretched arm having fired a guiding bolt right into the monster’s arm which now smoldered with divine light. It made Cecil squint and avert his eyes but he grinned all the same. 

“Thanks priest!” He called before he turned to run back up the monster’s body towards the mass of heads. 

A few of the monster’s fingers came crashing down as the weak magic that held them in place faltered, but Lance just looked on in satisfaction. 

Cecil’s feet connected with one of the remaining spikes on the skeletal abomination’s shoulder. He climbed it like a perch to which he only needed one strong kick to get the advantage. Coming down upon the heads, he could see where they held together now that he had chipped away at their defenses. Now he could break them off like chunks of crumbling clay. 

“Sorry about this big guy,” Cecil grinned as he charged another eldritch blast in his outstretched hand. The two bolts shot forth, determined to hit their mark. As the purple bolts made contact, the green energy that animated the beast flared in what must have been a last-ditch effort to counter the warlock’s attack. There was a great flash that made Lance avert his eyes. 

Cecil squinted and he began to lose sight of where he was aiming. He felt as if this was his one and only shot, that if he allowed the enemy's arcana to overpower his own that it would spell disaster. 

Warlocks were not Clerics. Many of their patrons did not communicate with them, nor did they rely on their patrons for strength and guidance. But there were always exceptions to the rule. The Archfey were the most chatty of the bunch, but also the most demanding in their pacts. The Old Ones tended to be more hands-off- for better or worse. Rarely did they tend to worry about the fate of their patrons as long as the pact was fulfilled. The Fiend however was different. Some warlocks worshiped their demonic patrons with cultish fervor, throwing themselves into their service. Others were simply to be cannon fodder to further a demon’s dark desires into the material world. But then there were others. Demons that required a bit more effort to contact than a simple summoning circle. These rituals were dangerous and costly and were never guaranteed to go well, the consequence being death. But if they saw the determination and fire glowing in the summoner’s eyes, and for the right price, they would become more reliable than any god. 

_ “Nyx, I could really use your help right now.”  _ Cecil thought as if it was a silent prayer. 

For a moment, Cecil’s eyes went black as night, and he could see the path clear as day. 

The twin bolts shot forth with deadly accuracy, cutting through the green aura like lightning strikes from the heavens. They ignited the skulls on impact, causing a purple flame to ravage the remaining clusters. They broke free and crumbled to the ground in burning heaps, crashing as they made contact with the cavern floor. Lance saw the remaining part of the arm he had broken collapsed to the ground in pieces, the necrotic binds that animated it severed like woven string. With every rune that was broken and burned, the bone construct began to crumble.

Lance had to move carefully to avoid being crushed by the falling debris himself. Though white smoke filled the air high above him as a result of the light show, he could still see through the veil that there was one last remaining cluster of skulls, about six of them with runes glowing with all the power they could to animate the remaining body. But standing atop them was a familiar silhouette, a boot-mounted on the top skull. Lance watched them raise a hand high, and another purple glow formed like a beacon through the smoke and shadow. The smoke began to clear just as Cecil brought his palm down, the sheer impact of his hand enough to crack the first skull. The resulting blast shot through the skulls, destroying them and their ruins, cracking and splintering all the way into the monster’s chest, like lightning hitting a great tree. The green magic went out like a candle and all movement ceased, the remains frozen like a statue. And standing atop it all was Cecil.

“It seems I forget how powerful he really is,” Lance whispered at the sight, the tension in the room beginning to fade. 

However there was a new cracking noise, and with a look at each other, both men realized the structure was beginning to collapse. 

Cecil screamed as his stance broke when the shoulders he stood on crumbled under his feet. He reached out to grab onto the chest, but as soon as he touched it, his hold was lost as the bones cracked and plummeted. He was falling faster and faster as he tried to reach for something, anything! 

“FUCK!” Cecil shouted as he saw the ground come closer and closer, and all he could think to do was close his eyes. 

“Gotcha!” 

Before that could happen, Cecil felt something grab him out of the sky and pull him against its sturdy hold, all in bridal style. He wrapped his arms around them and turned his head away from the crashing debris. They got to the ground as the remaining bones rained down upon them, shielding Cecil with their own form. There was the sound of bones hitting metal like hail just before a dust cloud rolled through the area, Cecil making sure to cover his eyes and mouth to not breathe it in. The moment it dissipated, the room went quiet and Cecil opened his eyes. 

“So that’s over now.” Lance was right above him, having acted as his shield from the raining bones. He could see some blood dripping down his face and feared the worst.   
“Lance are you okay!?” Cecil grabbed onto him and forced the Cleric back onto his butt, the weight shift causing the warlock to lurch forward into his lap.   
“Ceece I’m-” Lance was cut off by Cecil grabbing his face and beginning to inspect him for head wounds. “I’m fine I’m fine it was just a rock from earlier!” Lance was laughing as he caught the warlock’s hands and gently pulled them away from jerking his head around. 

Cecil could see that the blood was just coming from a cut above his eyebrow, that he was otherwise alright. He felt relief wash through him before he lightly hit Lance on the chest.   
“What were you thinking?! You don’t even have a helmet on, did you want a bone to crack your head, open idiot?!” Cecil sounded a bit flustered and Lance only laughed 

“Hey, all I had to do was this” Lance held his arm behind his head, showing how the bracers that protected his arms blocked his head from any falling debris. “Really I should be lecturing you for almost getting skewered and falling to your death there shouldn’t I?” He winked

Cecil blinked, processing the comment before he grabbed Lance’s chin and kissed him. It lasted for a few moments, Lance smiling against his lips before they pulled away from each other.   
“Consider that my thank you.” Cecil sat back on his legs and folded his arms, Lance only continuing to laugh softly at his pout. However, the cleric then winced and keeled forward a bit, clutching his side as he sucked in air through gritted teeth. 

“Ow ow ow-” Lance groaned as he felt waves of soreness and ache surge through his body now that he was coming down from the high of battle. It felt like his armor was pressing against his body in all the wrong ways.   
“Shit okay- come on big guy” Cecil only had to move Lance back a bit to lean him against one of the piles of collapsed bones. He reached to the straps on Lance’s armor and undid them, relieving the pressure around his torso. “Arms up.” Lance complied and Cecil lifted the chest plate off, the cleric seemingly able to breathe a bit easier now. 

“Thanks” Lance breathed, the soreness running through him like a bad hangover. “By the way, you were completely badass up there y’know?” He grinned through the pain. 

“Only because you had my back” Cecil replied, searching through Lance’s bag to find a bandage. 

“Told you we make a good team.” he chuckled. 

“Please don’t go breaking Damien’s heart by saying that. The last thing I want to do is home wreck.” Cecil replied, pouring a bit of water onto a cloth to clean the wound up before he bandaged it up. 

“Don’t worry you aren’t homewrecking anything. Our relationship isn’t like that at all” Lance laughed aloud. Cecil rolled his eyes. 

“You aren’t moving from here for at least 30 minutes. Just rest.” He gave Lance the waterskin who then promptly chugged what he could in one go.

“So-” Lance grinned as he caught his breath from chugging. “What’d you think of what I did with that arm.” 

Cecil inhaled sharply before he cut his gaze back at the cleric. “Rest does not mean you get to make out with me for that duration.” 

“Not what I meant but noted.” Lance shifted with a pleased little smirk on his face. He then lifted his hand up to Cecil, showing where a cut was bleeding on his hand, the result of pressing his hand into the monster’s sharp claw. “In the meantime, maybe you should fix yourself up.” 

“If you insist” Cecil cleaned the wound with a splash of water, washing away the grit of battle. The wound still dripped warm red blood. Cecil brought it to his lips as if it was just a simple kiss to the palm. Lance couldn’t help but brush the vampire’s cheek as he drank the blood with a few gentle licks. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to bring relief to Cecil’s own injuries. The cut itself closed up much like Cecil’s bites had done previously. Cecil dropped his hand away. “Thanks” 

“Don’t mention it.” Lance smiled and leaned back, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept you down here so long.” Cecil then apologized. “I didn’t know how dangerous it would be, I wouldn’t have asked you to come if I knew you would get so hurt and well- possessed and all.” 

“But you didn’t really ask did you?” Lance replied, not opening his eyes. “More like I was too stubborn to let you get rid of me.”

“I...I suppose that’s true.” 

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for. I figured I was signing up for some crazy shit.” He laughed and opened one eye a bit. He saw Cecil with his back turned to him, putting away whatever he had pulled out of their bags. He reached for the vampire’s waist and pulled him back against him. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find Zetta and be out of here in no time.” 

Cecil leaned into his warmth, again feeling protected from the haunting memories of this castle. But it wasn’t enough to do them away entirely. 

“Yeah, I hope we do.” The vampire whispered. 

-

_ “Cecil Baranski, with this sacrifice and oath, do you swear your soul into my service until the demise of your immortal life? Will you go forth and kill the wicked in my name, sending their souls into my realm to be tortured as I see fit? Do you swear yourself to the void of night?”  _

_ “I do, my lady.”  _

_ “You shall not call me by any name other than my own, Cecil Baranski. You have suffered under so-called Lords and Masters long enough. You have earned your freedom, and with this power, I hope you maintain the strength to keep it.”  _

_ “My freedom means more to me than anything, Nyx. I will do all I can to keep it, or I will find myself in your realm forevermore.”  _

_ “And so the pact is forged.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! College is the worst so I've had a bunch of work. I'm still pushing through this writers block ugh   
> Also! I commissioned Bipirate on Tumblr/Instagram for the boys! Please go check them out! 
> 
> https://bipirate.tumblr.com/post/633972850004475904/a-commission-for-gaycalculator-these-are-their


	13. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartbeat is the echo of life, even in the chest of the undead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:   
> EXTREMELY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE   
> depictions of abuse   
> references to sexual assault   
> Blood and gore

_ He had never felt such warmth paint his skin. It dripped down his face, staining his hair and clothes. It was intoxicating, addicting, awakening something within him.  _

_ And the staining color matched his eyes, his eyes full of untapped savagery _

-

_ Before Domik had left, he had ordered a group of his guards to keep watch on his treasured courtesan until he returned. Of course, they were there to keep the entire castle safe in the absence of its Lord, but every hour Cecil felt as if he was being watched.  _

_ “The one time I have a chance to escape and he- he stops me before I can even try,” Cecil ranted in hushed tones, damn near pulling his hair out as he paced in front of Zetta.  _

_ “Another time will come soon, Cecil. And when it does we’ll be ready to get out of here before he can stack his hand against us.” Zetta replied from where she laid in his bed. Even if she had her own servants quarter, she often spent the night with him instead. At the foot of the bed sat their bags they had packed to leave with.  _

_ Cecil had begged Zetta to leave with his permission, to be free even if he could not, but she refused. Cecil didn’t understand why she cared about him so much. For over five years now she had stayed by his side, like a guardian angel of sorts. For years Cecil had resigned himself to his fate, but Zetta reminded him to live again through her stories of her small but happy village, the dances they shared together, their talks that droned late into the night as she held him, comforting him, making him feel safe behind the closed door of his bedchamber. Even when he had nothing he had her. But the last thing he wanted was to be the one who robbed her of her freedom, even if she was steadfast in her promises to stay by his side. If he couldn’t make it out he would make sure she did.  _

_ “Zetta you can’t stay here any longer. You deserve to be home with your family again.” Cecil turned and leaned towards her, hands pressed against the mattress.  _

_ “Cecil if I’m not here what are the chances that he’ll trap you again?” Zetta shot back, her expression pained and desperate to convince him. “He acts as if he owns you- and...and you believed it. That’s how his control works and I’m afraid if I’m gone I-I’ll never see you again.” Cecil watched a tear roll down her cheek before her voice broke into tears. Quickly he swooped in to hold her, to muffle her cries into the fabric of his night robes.  _

_ “Then...Then we aren’t staying here any longer. We’re leaving tomorrow night, one way or another Zetta.” Cecil’s voice grew a determination that made the crying woman hold her sobs. It sounded so different but... it sounded like it belonged. “We’re both going to get out of here. I don’t care what I have to do.” Cecil let her go gently and then she watched him go over to the large mirror where she had done his hair so many times. She watched as he lifted up the mirror, and from behind a loose brick, he pulled a thin but sharp knife from a hiding spot. “I stole this not too long ago. Maybe it can help us.”  _

_ - _

Cecil played with his hair as he rested against Lance’s chest, the Cleric having fallen asleep, but of course, it wasn’t undeserved. The divine energy in his core had set to work healing him, and Cecil could see the cuts and bruises begin to fade on his warm brown skin. He could hear Lance’s heartbeat drum rhythmically against his head, but when he brought his hand to his chest, he failed to feel anything similar. Every beat that came was slow, drawn out, and it seemed like an eternity passed before he felt the next thump. In the throws of battle or fits of desire, his heartbeat sped up, just as it would for any other living thing. It was always a comfort to remind himself he was living. But Cecil wasn’t exactly alive was he? 

Even if he was undead, vampires like himself seemed to teeter on the line between the two states of being. Zombies could live forever without needing to sleep or eat, void of free will and thought, constantly acting on orders until they were cut down. Specters, shadows, even wraiths were all just shells of who they once were, and death didn’t discriminate between the good and the bad. They only knew how to hate and kill, void of any light. Maybe that's why they were drawn to the energy of the living, stealing it away in the desperate attempt to try and feel again. Ghosts maintained their sense of self, if not just barely. They could feel and think and act on their own command, hoping to fix whatever had forced them into that state in the first place. However, they would never feel the warmth of life again, unless they were lucky enough to pass on peacefully. As much as Cecil hated to think about it, he wasn’t that much different than a ghoul. Ghouls were creatures created by inhuman forces, molded in the shadows, yet they bled just like any living thing. They lived and hunted in packs, tried to protect each other, and apparently were capable of things like fear. They were driven by their instincts, seeking to quell the hunger that burned within them even if it proved to be in vain. Without the living, they would starve. 

Even if Cecil had full control over his mind and body, acting on his own free will, thinking, feeling, all the traits of something that lived a full life, on a base level he was the same as the ghouls he slaughtered so freely. He’d given up his mortality in exchange for a place of belonging, and in the process, he had sacrificed himself to be molded in Domik’s image. Cecil had fought to take back his freedom, but the white hair that crept into his silver locks just reminded him that a bond like that could never truly be severed. He could only consume a very limited amount of things beyond blood, and when he got desperate he had to feed on corpses, which is something he hated more than anything. He had to live in the shadows, and though he didn’t mind this much, he didn’t want to forget how the sun could feel. Then there were his instincts, a power that lived inside him from the moment he grew his fangs.

Low-class vampires, born or turned by weaklings didn’t have these strengths, all they could do was suckle the blood that came their way one way or another. They lived and died no different than most mortals did, reaping very few rewards from their affliction. Then there were the high-class aristocrats, nobles whose strengths were forged through decades of bloodshed and the culmination of power. Those sired by these elite were given these abilities like a parent gives a family relic to their child, the question was if they would ever be allowed to use them. A good master would keep their fledgling on a tight leash, never allow them to dip into these abilities, to gain that taste of unbridled freedom. 

A strong vampire could control these instincts, use them to their advantage in battle without being overtaken by the rage and hunger that fueled it. Cecil had no shame in using his abilities, not when lives were on the line and he needed to force himself to keep on living through any means necessary. He welcomed the feeling of hunger that washed over his senses, threatening to drown him if he wasn’t careful. It was a rush of strength that made him feel the blood coursing through his veins with a newfound purpose, fueling him like oil in a fire. It was dangerous, and the smallest slip would cause him to lose himself. It was the trade off for survival. 

However, despite the fact it made him feel alive, it was still a deep echo of what Domik had done to him so long ago, what had been stolen. As invigorating as it was, when he came down from the high and his heartbeat quelled once more, it just reminded him he wasn’t fully living, and he never would again. 

That’s why he preferred to seek comfort in the heartbeat of others, take what he could from their warmth, though never in a way it would hurt them. If he was close enough to hear their heartbeat it meant they wanted him there, for some reason or another. It reminded him he wasn’t just alive, he was living. 

If all else failed, he could always fall back on the power that lived inside him, waiting for a moment to come out. 

-

_ He had never killed anyone before, not so much as been part of a hunt. He’d watched countless executions, of course, heard people beg for mercy. But never had he taken a life.  _

_ The plan they had set in motion hinged on stealth above all, perfect timing as to not attract any attention until the last possible moment. Zetta would slip out of her servant chamber early in the day, an hour before daybreak. Dawn and midday were the most dangerous times for vampires, when the sun’s blinding rays graced the world again and when she hung high in the sky above all. Due to the perpetual dark clouds that blanketed Aetroth, the sun didn’t threaten them like it would in other places. But Dawn was the exception. Dawn was the time where the mortals and the vampires of the castle were both retired either in sleep or hiding from the sun, left unhindered by the clouds. From there she would prepare a horse and meet Cecil behind the vast gardens where they would be hidden. They would have a cushion of time, at least the 30 minutes needed to gallop full speed into Magnus. From there they would make it as far as they could before the sun fully came up, and then they would take shelter far enough from Aetroth. It would be too risky for any of the vampiric guards to cross the border, for fear of the sun or the people of Magnus ready to stop the random onslaught of vampires descending on their town. Cecil knew that if the morning sun touched his skin, it would be agonizingly painful, even if it wouldn’t kill him. To alleviate this, he had a hooded cloak he hoped would protect him, but at the same time, he would risk a few burns to be free.  _

_ But it was the guard stationed in front of his door that was stopping him. It wasn’t one of Domik’s vampiric guards, rather it was one of the hired mortal mercenaries Domik kept around. He wasn’t familiar with the Courtesan beyond a surface level, most likely believing he was guarding a harmless flower. He was probably skilled, but not nearly as much of a threat as one of his vampiric counterparts. It was enough of a break. Cecil thought of going out the window, but he had no means of doing so, nor did he have the skill. However, he did have one idea, and he prayed to whatever demon or deity listening for help.  _

_ This guy was an idiot, or maybe he was just horny, Cecil didn’t care either way. He opened his door, the robes he wore hanging off his body like a lewd illustration in a book passed around by drunken adventurers. Despite the fact the guard told him to return to bed, Cecil could tell how his gaze that lingered on the forbidden courtesan was drowned in lust.  _

_ Maybe he had yet to learn that Cecil was to never be touched by another, that he belonged to Domik and Domik alone, or maybe he thought he could run and be gone with his pay before his employer figured it out. Whatever the reason, when the beautiful concubine invited him inside to keep him company in a more ‘intimate’ way, he seemed to abandon all sense of duty.  _

_Like a fly into a spider's web, Cecil locked the door behind him. He watched the smug mercenary waltz into his bedroom with a deep chuckle._ _  
__“Didn’t think a pretty thing like you would throw yourself at a guy like me. Guess I’m just that good.” He sounded like he was congratulating himself as he looked the small vampire up and down. Cecil hated to admit it, but he was tempted to go through with it, almost as a final ‘fuck you’ to his master. But he quickly put the thought out of his mind._

 _“You can get on the bed, I only ask you to remove some of your armor so as to not dirty the sheets. It would be too suspicious.” Cecil asked, using the obedient voice he knew so well._ _  
__“If that’s all you need then sure.” He laughed and did just that, dropping his weapons and removing the leather armor he wore over his torso. He then went to lay back on Cecil’s bed, arms behind his head and looking to Cecil expectantly._ _  
__The vampire secured the knife he held in his sleeve._

_ Cecil thought it would be hard to do his first kill. Technically this guy was innocent, this was just a job. He thought maybe he should feel wrong about this, but he failed to find that sentiment within him. The merc was looking at his conquest like a piece of meat, satisfied with the beautiful concubine currently straddling him. He had begun to reach up to pull the beauty down, and that's when Cecil’s gaze narrowed.  _

_ To Cecil, this was survival. So maybe that's where he found the strength to grab the trained mercenary’s arms and shoved them down above his head. The guy grinned for a moment before he saw the knife shine in the moonlight that came through the window. In a quick motion, the vampire slit his throat, causing the warm blood to begin to leak from his wound. He began to gag and cough, unable to scream as he tried to reach up to grab at him. Cecil responded by pressing a knee to his chest, holding down with all his weight, he grabbed one of the pillows, shoving it over his face. His arm was shaking with exertion and force as he made the man struggle further, any cries muffled. Cecil felt his slow heart pulse like a drum, the fresh blood awakening something dormant within him. He felt a surge of strength as he shoved the pillow down with more force, bending his neck back into the headboard to make more blood gush forth as he felt a snap and crunch beneath the soft pillow. Then he stopped moving entirely. Cecil removed the pillow to look down at him, blood now staining his hand as he watched the red substance ooze from the wound.  _

_ Cecil didn’t exactly know how to slit someone's throat, he had just missed the carotid artery with his initial slice. However, the final gush of blood indicated that the crucial artery had been torn somehow. As it turns out, when Cecil pressed his head back under the pillow, he had done so with such force, it had begun to rip the cartilage of the man’s neck and the strain caused the vital veins to snap like a worn down rope. Cecil picked up that knife and wiped it clean with his thumb, licking the blood off. His heart still was beating fervently, the smell of freshly drawn blood playing with his senses. Cecil promptly abandoned his blood stained night robes for a plain black shirt and pants before pulling on the black cloak that shrouded him in darkness. He took a look at himself in the mirror for what he thought would be the last time.  _

_ “I look good in black,” he said softly before he turned and left the chamber.  _

_ - _

“So I guess we figured out what did those guys in.” Lance rolled his neck to crack it after he had armored up again. “But if they were just a bunch of common thieves I guess it makes sense, my sword was like a toothpick on that thing.” 

“I seriously don’t understand the appeal of ‘giant abandoned vampire castle’” Cecil replied with air quotes before he flipped his hair back to re-tie it after he had let down for the duration of their rest. “Like seriously you’re going to come down here without so much as a spellcaster?” Cecil tied it high and tight before he looked at the new slit in his shirt. He looked back to Lance and saw the Cleric looking back at him. 

“What are you staring at?” Cecil asked, walking over to him. 

“Oh nothing!” he exclaimed, realizing he was caught staring. “It's just your hair.”

Cecil felt himself go stiff. Either Lance had just noticed the couple inches that were inexplicably missing, or he was going to make some out of place comment about how he should wear it as if it mattered at all. 

“What about it?” Cecil said in a low voice, trying to hide the tension behind it. 

“I-I mean it's nothing in particular- just um-” Lance stuttered and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You can say it.” 

Lance sighed. 

“Well um- I kinda want to grow my hair out.” 

Cecil blinked and felt a bizarre relief wash over him. But it wasn’t enough to distract him from what Lance just said. 

“...go on.” 

“I mean I kinda already am” Lance ran his hands through his hair that grew a bit longer in the back than in the front. “I don’t really know what I would do with it though- I just know it looked really good on my mom. I don’t know maybe I’d braid it or something?” 

Cecil reached out and ran the small braid that Lance wore in his hair through his fingers as if he was pondering. 

“I think it’d look good. Though you’ll only know if you try it out.” Cecil let the braid go with a little flip. 

“The way you braid your hair is really nice. I mean I don't think it would work for me but-” Lance scratched the side of his face with a laugh. “But then again I think yours would look good no matter what you do to it.” 

Cecil felt the smallest blush on his cheeks, but then he grinned. “What if I shaved my head?”

Lance looked like he was trying to hide the fact he was choking on something. 

“I-I-I-mean it’s your hair! You can do whatever you want with it!” he first exclaimed, but then his voice got serious. “But if you want my actual opinion please never do that. Please.” He sounded desperate to prevent that reality. 

“Well since you asked nicely.” Cecil shrugged and turned around. He stepped on the lip of what looked like a fancy hand mirror. He used the tilt to flip it up into the air with his foot before he caught it midair. “I’ll hold off on any plans to cut it.” 

Lance hoped he wouldn’t have to. The longer they stayed down here, the more stress Cecil would experience, whether he admitted to it or not. Lance knew he had to keep a close eye on him as they got closer to their goal. 

“I’m assuming you want to snatch some more goods?” Lance asked, grabbing his bag and catching up with Cecil. 

“Not right now. I have a feeling we’re close.” Cecil held the pendant again. “If memory serves right, then we’re on the last section of the tombs. It’s all starting to look familiar to me now.” he almost whispered as he looked down the long hallway. “If I’m wrong then-” Cecil shook his head. “Nevermind, let's go.” 

-

_ It had gone wrong. In a moment it had all gone so wrong. Cecil had been able to slip out of the castle, the black clothing concealing him in the shadows of the castle as he slipped through like a whisper. Zetta had been right where she said she would be, a stallion waiting to break away from the castle walls around them and into the country of Magnus, the moon still in the sky. Cecil threw the hood on over his head and held onto Zetta as they fled, the first few miles into their mad dash going off without a hitch. It was about 10 miles in they were able to hear an oncoming gallop of horses behind them and distant shouts.  _

_ “I think they noticed,” Cecil commented as he looked over his shoulder, the flat terrain of the plains doing them favors of concealment.  _

_ “Should we try and break towards the swamps?” Zetta shouted over the wind resistance, holding hard onto the reins of the steed.  _

_ “No, we’re close enough. We only need to go a bit further.” Cecil actually felt his heart beating, over and over in his chest. It was unfamiliar to him, but freedom, true freedom was just so close, they only had a few more miles.  _

_ Then the arrows started to whir through the air.  _

_ “Dodge right!” Cecil shouted, tapping Zetta’s right arm to tell her to veer right and avoid the first arrow.  _

_ “Hyah!” Zetta redirected the horse with a firm tug, her horse riding skills learned back at her home in full use. She was a farm girl after all. _

_ Their path became jagged as Zetta tried to steer away from every arrow that came towards them, successful in this endeavor but losing momentum as they jolted about. They could hear the guards coming for them growing louder as their horses stampede across the plains.  _

_ It was then the warm glow of a Magnus town came into view like a beacon calling to them. It couldn’t have been more than a mile away from where they were, and to Cecil it meant freedom. Freedom he had craved for over 2 centuries now. _

_ But all it took was a well aimed arrow to bring their plan to a crashing halt.  _

_ It was when the arrows that had begun raining down were set ablaze, igniting the dry grasses around them as Zetta tried to keep in control. At one point an arrow landed close to where they ran and the subsequent flames licked up at Cecil and the horse. Cecil hissed and snatched his leg away, the horse beginning to panic as well.  _

_ “Are you okay?” Zetta called back, her grip beginning to hurt as the lights grew closer.  _

_ “I’ll live...What about you?”  _

_ “We’re almost there. All we have to do is cross and-” She was cut off by a flaming arrow striking their horse right in the rear, causing the horse to jerk about and cry out in pain. The flames caught onto the cloak Cecil wore and began to spread upwards. The vampire tried to rip the cloak from around him, but his claws which Domik insisted he keep short were utterly useless. Zetta tried to regain control but the more the horse thrashed, but when the animal reared upwards she lost her grip.  _

_ Cecil watched the flames grow up his cloak, but when the horse reared upwards he saw another arrow fly forward to strike the animal again, this time in the throat. Zetta screamed as they began to fall backward, inevitably to be crushed under the weight of the animal. The gallop of horses and shouts of men grew closer.  _

_ “Hold on!” Cecil found the strength to rip the cloak from himself with a loud rip before he grabbed Zetta’s waist and pulled her off the horse as he jumped off with a seemingly new strength to him. The two of them fell to the ground but away from the crushing weight of the stallion that fell back to the ground. _

_ Zetta landed atop Cecil, cushioning the impact of the fall as Cecil was far sturdier than her. She looked in the direction of their pursuers growing closer as the flames in their pathway grew and then towards the lights of Magnus. They could still make it. They had to.  _

_ She felt a jolt of adrenaline and she grabbed her companion’s hand, jerking him to his feet and pulling him as she began to run.  _

_ “Only a half mile!” She shouted back as arrows continued to whiz overhead. She ran at full speed without any time to think about it, her lungs burning in her throat. She had no time to check back on Cecil but the way he gripped her wrist as she held onto his kept her propelling forward. She smelled smoke, and it only took a glance to see their pursuers were trapped behind a wall of flames of their own foolish design. Cecil was keeping up with her as well and they were in the home stretch.  _

_ Then it happened in slow motion. Zetta looked back to Cecil just in time to see an arrow strike the vampire right in the back. The vampire faltered as blood squelched through the puncture, but he didn’t stop running, instead finding the strength to run even harder, pulling ahead of Zetta. _

_ “You’re hurt!” She exclaimed before she heard the whir of arrows.  _

_ Shot after shot, after shot, struck Cecil in the back, and every time he cried out in pain. He was bleeding badly now, and if he were human he would’ve been dead. _

_ “Idiot! Don’t damage him or the Lord will have your head!” _

_ “He’s a vampire. He’ll survive a few arrows. Besides, Domik’s gonna do a lot worse to him.” _

_ Then the last shot that struck managed to bring the vampire down, an arrow to the back of the neck. It wasn’t that it killed him, not at all. But the pain had grown too excruciating and he collapsed, letting go of Zetta and hitting the ground. Zetta stopped running and dropped to his side, seeing the arrows sticking out of him like quills. Cecil was coughing up blood now and was struggling to stand up, the blood leaking from his wounds staining his white hair. That damn white hair. No wonder he was an easy shot.  _

_ “Come on Ceece it’s okay we’re almost there-!” Zetta dropped and started to gather him in her arms, pulling him up to his feet and supporting him as they stumbled forward again. “You’re okay...It’s going to be okay-” it was like she was trying to soothe the both of them.  _

_ Due to the fact he was so light, this wasn’t hard, but it was still hard to move as two people. Cecil was trying to go as fast as he could to keep up, but his body was starting to give out, foreign to this level of pain. His knees buckled and he fell again.  _

_ “Zetta...run. They want me...not you” He pleaded with her, looking up at her with tear filled eyes, knowing he was dead weight at this point. But she only tightened her grip and pulled him back up.  _

_ “NO!” She was stubborn.  _

_“Zetta please-”  
_ _  
__“I won’t abandon you Cecil I-AAH!” Zetta shrieked as the guards, clad in armor marked with ruby rose who caught up with them, one brute grabbing the woman by her hair and jerking her away from her companion as he laughed viciously._

_ “No-!” Cecil cried out in terror, feeling their hands get pulled apart. He screamed in agony when he felt someone pin him to the ground with their boot, unable to get up. _

_ “Nice shootin’ there Idris!” He heard a jovial man’s voice laugh as he felt someone pull the arrows from his body, making the gushing of his blood worsen. Cecil gasped for breath before he felt the weight lift. But he still couldn’t find the strength to move his body.  _

_ “Moron.” The chilling voice of the vampiric commander of these mortal guardsmen scolded, the sound of an armored man getting pushed following. “You tell me not to damage him, and then you pin him down like some common animal. Domik will not want his treasure destroyed or defaced! Pull out those arrows and bind him. I’ll return to send word to reach the master by noon.” Cecil heard another set of men on horseback ride up not too long after, the stragglers apparently to this already sizable bunch.  _

_“Why call so many men, sir?”  
_ _  
__“The white haired one is a vampire. It’s simply a precaution in case he caused trouble, though apparently, Domik has kept him a low blood domestic. There shouldn’t be much of a threat from him.” He then stopped in contemplation as Cecil felt his slow slow heart rate begin to speed up, despite the blood loss. “But to be safe, bind him. I’ll take him back with me.”_

**_Thump_ **

_ “What do we do with the girl?” Another gruff voice asked, and Cecil opened one eye only to see Zetta struggling to pull free, forced to the knees and held up by her hair as she screamed and kicked. “Just a servant wench ain’t she?” _

**_Thump_** _  
__“...Don’t kill her. I’m sure the master will want to exact punishment himself. I’ll bring the courtesan, but the girl I don’t really care about, just make sure she comes back in one piece.”_

**_Thump_ **

_ “Sounds like a plan to me. Good thing she ain’t half bad lookin’”  _

_ “Heh, let's just make sure to keep her alive.” _

**_Thump_ **

_ Cecil was in more pain than he had ever felt in his life, but those words. Those words scared him more than anything. Zetta was going to suffer because of him. Because she had been unfortunate enough to be his only friend, to care about him in such a stubborn way. He wasn’t scared of Idris, he wasn’t even scared of Domik. But seeing this brute of a man put his hand on Zetta and shove her to the ground while he felt binds wrap around his wrists-  _

**_Thump Thump Thump_ **

_ “S-Stop it...Don’t hurt her…” He tried to plead, but the vicious mocking laughter swallowed it. Zetta then looked to Cecil with sorrowful eyes, as if she felt she needed to apologize for what they were about to endure. She smiled weakly, telling him she didn’t blame him, not one bit.  _

**_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP_ **

_ In a moment it was like all his senses dulled, aside from the smell of his own blood staining the grass below him as it leaked from his wounds. Blood. It was what kept him alive in every sense of the word, and he had never seen this much of his own before. Domik rarely let him feed by biting, and the smell of so much freshly drawn blood began to overwhelm his senses. He felt something begin to wash over him, anger towards these men, hatred towards his master, and then hunger.  _

_ “I SAID DON’T HURT HER!” The small, beautiful vampire’s silky voice came out as a distorted growl. He felt his teeth sharpen as he bared his teeth, planting palms on the ground as he began to push himself up. His body was shaking as he felt something come over him like the crashing of a great wave. All he could feel was the way his heartbeat out of his chest, the way it felt like his eyes were going to burst from his skull as the pressure built behind them, the way his fangs felt bared together with enough pressure to break a metal chain between them. He clawed at the dirt until dirt gathered in his fists as claws inched their way out from his filed nails. His bloodied hair was spilling over his shoulders and face, painting him with his own blood. He clenched his fists as he let out snarling shaking breaths.  _

_ Everyone had stopped in their tracks, before they could even touch Zetta they had all turned to look at the bloodied mess of a courtesan trying to stand. At least that’s what it looked like.  _

_ “Cecil…?” Zetta felt something wasn’t right.  _

_ Idris was back at his horse when he turned to look at the scene, an eyebrow raised as he watched from a distance. He saw one of the guards approaching the writhing courtesan, rope in hand to bind him. _

_ “You’ll get back down if you know what's good for you you little-” _

_ “Wait...wait stay back from-!” _

_ “AAARGH!” The inhuman growl that came from the small vampire echoed into the night as claws ripped away at the guard’s abdomen, his intestines were skewered on the ends of his fingers. Blood sprayed and leaked out, covering the vampire’s face as he jerked his hand away, standing fast and pulling the rest of the intestinal organs with it. He had whipped around with such speed that the guard hadn’t even been able to defend himself, his ruby rose clad armor failing to hinder the attack. Now he could only look into the enraged glowing eyes of a vampire discovering themselves for the first time, and oh how Cecil was letting it consume him. _

_ The warm blood that coated him made the thumping in his chest grow stronger as he looked at his bloodied hands, still holding an unidentifiable organ in hand that he hadn’t dropped yet. He dug his teeth into it and ripped away at the meat like an animal and felt his wounds begin to close. As he swallowed he glanced towards the other guards, taking in their horrified expressions with an excited look on his face, like that of a cornered animal with nothing left to lose. _

_“WHAT THE FUCK-”  
_ _  
__“FUCKING SUBDUE HIM OR SOMETHING-”_

_ “FUCKING VAMPIRES-”  _

_ “NO STOP HE’LL-”  _

_ The idiotic guards drew their weapons and charged at the raging vampire, abandoning Zetta on the grass relatively untouched to try and cut down whatever this thing was. Zetta pushed herself up and took in the scene, her heart stopping when she processed the sight before her.  _

_ Cecil had his teeth latched around a man’s exposed throat, pinning him down and tearing through the cartilage and muscle enough to effectively decapitate him after pulling away. Blood soaked hair was covering his face but they could still see glowing crimson eyes staring back at them.  _

_ Zetta held her breath as she watched Cecil launch himself at the next guard, his new claws digging into his chest and ripping it open with a spray of blood before biting down on his neck. He drained the man of blood for a moment as he screamed out in pain, but Cecil just dug his nails in, even more, exposing the inside chest cavity before ripping it away.  _

_ One guard tried to attack Cecil with his spear, charging with it hoping to run the creature through, but when the blade made contact, Cecil’s instincts prevailed, dodging any deeper cut and launching up at the man’s throat and gripping his face. Cecil shoved him kicking and screaming into the ground and forced his head down until it broke like a watermelon. He screamed again, raw and animalistic as he turned attention to three more men who were ready to assail him with their drawn blades.  _

_Zetta watched their iron swords make contact with his body, one of them even succeeding in running the vampire through, but it didn’t stop him. The one who ran him through had his neck snapped by Cecil’s clawed grip that caught his throat, the sword was still buried in him. Cecil just pulled the blade out of his chest and discarded it to the side before throwing the man in his claws into the man to his right, the two falling into a pile to which Cecil then pounced on like a wild cat. He was breathing heavily as blood poured down his body, before he ran his hand through the two men’s chest, ripping out a heart as he pulled his arm back out. The man on the bottom didn’t die instantly, thinking he thought he had an opportunity to stab a dagger through the rampaging vampire’s skull. Cecil grabbed his wrist and with a scream of exertion, ripped the arm right from the man’s body, throwing it across the burning plains surrounding them. The man was screaming in horror, trying to jerk away and run, but then he saw the way the vampire grinned wide. There were vicious, monstrous teeth with blood and meat caught in his smile. The vampire laughed in his throat, utterly intoxicated with animalistic power that was surging through his body like a drug. The man closed his eyes and tried to pray to anyone, but before he could, Cecil had ripped his head clean off with his claws._

_ Zetta didn’t feel sorry for him. After all, this was the guard who had her pinned to the ground a moment ago. But Cecil… _

_It made sense in a way. Domik kept him so tightly controlled he never seemed to be able to dip into his abilities, the leash tight around his neck holding him from his true nature. It would’ve been easy to assume he was just a pretty piece, a frail fledgling who needed to hide behind his master._ _  
__Zetta saw now that this was far from the truth._

_ Behind a guard on horseback charged Cecil, spear out and galloping towards him. Zetta almost called out to him, but Cecil turned heel and launched himself at the final guard, knocking the man off and shredding through him like he had the other. However this time with his teeth in the man’s throat, Cecil drank his blood until his body turned into a withered husk. When he pulled away, there was blood coating his face and chest as he looked to catch his breath.  _

_ “Stay where you are!”  _

_ Zetta yelped as a knife was brought to her throat and a firm hand gripped the back of her clothes. She looked up and saw Idris held her captive as if she was a shield against the bloodthirsty vampire. She saw Cecil growl animalisticly at the man but showed enough restraint to not attack.  _

_ “You’re not a complete animal, I know you can understand me. So hear me when I say that if you take one more step I kill this girl.”  _

_ Cecil didn’t move, but his teeth were barred in anger. Flames from the burning fields smoldered around them, some of the flames having lost their fuel and the rest were simply patches dotting the earth. The sky overhead had lost its inky stains of the night, and ever so slowly, a red hue began to creep over the horizon.  _

_ Zetta saw how Idris wore no gear around his stomach, and determined to never be a pawn of this, swung her elbow back with all the force she could muster into his abdomen.  _

_ She let out a scream of pain as the pain of impact shot through her body, but as soon as she felt the grip around her clothing drop and the knife fall from her throat she threw herself out of the way as Idris keeled in pain.  _

_ “YOU LITTLE BITCH-” He snarled as he held his stomach in agony, reaching out to grab her again only to get tackled to the ground by the still raging Cecil, now with nothing to impede him.  _

_ Forced to the ground, Idris was able to hold his opponent back by forcing him away with his arms extended out. However this didn’t stop Cecil from clawing and snapping at the vampiric head guard, eyes still glowing with bloodlust. He knew this concubine had no combat experience, and yet he still felt fear. After all, he was a low-class vampire. The blood of his men dripped onto his face as Cecil lashed out, somehow fighting back against the force of Idris’ hold on him.  _

_ ‘I have to subdue him,’ Idris thought in a panic, knowing that killing the courtesan would only cause more harm than good. Though he knew that there would be more men arriving soon as the riderless horses had bolted back to the castle, he would have to survive himself until then.  _

_ “AAARGH” Cecil turned his head enough to bite a chunk out of Idris’ arm, though he spit it out as if it disgusted him.  _

_ Idris screamed but grabbed the other man by the throat and flipped him over so that he now had the upper hand. This effectively held Cecil down as he tried to attack Idris, kicking his legs out and slashing at him with no avail. Idris reached for the other dagger clipped to his belt and pulled it out as fast as he could. Maybe he could stop his rage if he damaged him enough...? _

_ Zetta was reeling from the pain caused by her damaged elbow, effectively robbing her of use in her left arm. Despite this, she knew she still had to do something as Idris regained the upper hand again. They were just so close to freedom. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed something to her right and got to her feet. _

_ Idris raised the dagger above his head with the intention to pin him to the ground with a blade to the chest. Cecil caught sight of the gold pendant that hung from his neck. Engraved with a ruby accented rose. _

_ “Let...ME GO” Cecil snarled, his voice still distorted with savage rage as he tried to get free.  _

_A large and jagged rock then slammed into the side of Idris’ head with all the force needed to knock him off Cecil. Even if Zetta wasn’t the strongest, it had been a proper blow to the head.  
_ _  
__“AUGH!” Idris lurched back and almost turned his attention to the human woman, but failed before the concubine slashed him clean across the face, ripping away skin like a blade tore flesh. He got back as fast as he could, still on the ground and now clutching his bleeding face. He heard the horses galloping in the far distance, but he was now in fear it would be too late before he was turned to dog food._

_ Cecil stood up and shook his head, though it didn’t clear his mind. He charged with a final, finishing attack, teeth bared and claws out. Idris shut his eyes.  _

_ The sun then rose over the horizon with blood orange clouds in the sky, the sun’s new rays blanketed the plains around them as faint stars still hung above. None of them had been paying attention to the lowering position of the moon and the ever-changing movements of the sun bringing forth the dawn.  _

_ “NO!” Zetta screamed as the sun hit the two vampires. _

_ Idris grabbed his hood and threw it over his head, shielding his face, it burned but it was nothing he couldn’t manage.  _

_ As if a flame went out, the madness fell from Cecil’s face as the sun warmed his skin. He screamed out in agony and threw his hands over his face, falling to the ground in burning pain. His connection to his vampiric power was severed in a moment.  _

_ “AAAH!” Cecil cried out as tears mixed with blood began to stream down his face. His teeth retracted back to normal and his nails, while still long, were no longer at a deadly point. He was powerless again.  _

_ Zetta did all she could and threw herself over Cecil’s small shape, trying to shield him from as much of the sun as she could. He was still screaming in pain and was unable to move, feeling as if he was being eaten away by a powerful acid coating his skin.  _

_ “We were so close…” Cecil sobbed out as Zetta held him.  _

_ Magnus was in sight, in fact, some had left their houses to see what all the chaos was. Cecil took in as much of it as he could before he felt like he had gone blind from the rays.  _

_ Zetta looked up to see another set of guards arriving at the carnage. They aided Idris in shielding himself and getting onto horseback before they themselves were bound with rope and thrown onto a wagon to be pulled back to the castle. They halfheartedly covered Cecil with a sheet to hide him, but he had already passed out from the pain.  _

_ Zetta gave Magnus a last glance. _ _   
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was insane to write but I'm very proud of how it turned out! I'm hoping to accomplish building a sense of dread and fear surrounding these events. I only have a few more chapters to go! Any shares or feedback would be incredible and feel free to hit me up @gaycalculator on tumblr!


	14. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Cecil make it to the last chamber, hoping to find Zetta's remains, only for Cecil to make a discovery that threatens to tear him apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings   
> VERY GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE  
> Character experiencing PTSD  
> PTSD related lashing out   
> Descriptions of Trauma

“So what was that bone monster exactly?” Lance asked a bit out of the blue. He couldn’t get the question out of his mind after all.

“If I had to guess it’s a construct made by some necromancer. That's what the runes on the skulls were for.” Cecil was looking over one of the pieces that had the rune mostly intact, trying to decipher it. “Domik couldn’t have done this. The connection would’ve been severed with his death. There's plenty of other necromancers and sorcerers in Aetroth but I doubt I’d be able to tell just by looking at it.” 

The encounter had been so bizarre, it seemed there wasn’t a single trap they had switched on to trigger it, it was more like it had been something simple, like it was just following through with orders. 

“Is it just me or did it not really feel like it was supposed to be a trap?” Lance asked, looking around the high ceilings. “More like it was a weapon that was abandoned and we just turned it on again.” 

“Seems the looters were just as lucky, but now that I think about it I don’t know what they could have been stealing.” Cecil chewed the end of his thumbnail as he tried to figure out just what was going on. 

“I mean upstairs looks like it got ransacked a long time ago. There was stuff everywhere.” Lance recalled the twisted and dusty metal littered through the hallways of the castle above, how spiderwebs clung to the corners and the mess of overturned, destroyed decor. And at the forefront of it all, he remembered the mosaic that was scorched and defaced, now realizing the man in that mosaic was the same one he had seen in Valora’s memories, Domik. “But everything down here has been untouched for the most part, especially since they wouldn’t have had a key. Right?” Lance asked, looking down at his companion. 

“...I know there are other ways down into these chambers, hidden pathways, and entrances throughout the castle or other places on the grounds, but Domik rarely let me use them. Probably was trying to prevent me from doing anything unchecked." Cecil rolled his eyes with a hint of disgust in his voice. "In the castle's abandoned state it wouldn’t surprise me if those men were unlucky enough to find one of those entrances.” 

“Well that makes sense but what's down here that would need a secret entrance?” Lance asked with a tilt of his head, his gaze lingering on a visibly unnerved Cecil.

“I...I don’t remember.” Cecil replied softly, continuing to fiddle with the amulet in his hand. “C-come on its saying that the spot’s down here.” 

Cecil failed to say that this place didn’t look familiar at all, or that he felt his heartbeat slowly growing along with a sense of fear.

The further they got down the chamber, the more cold and dank it became, the architecture falling away turning it back into a cavelike passage as if this place was meant to be hidden from prying eyes. It was different from all the bodies and crypts they had seen throughout the catacombs. Though the ground was still littered with bodies, mostly skeletons, there was a foul stench of decay lingering around them. Maybe it was noticeable as they entered the increasingly close space, or mother nature had been slow to take her course. 

Lance didn’t want to ask so bluntly if they were going the right way, but it didn’t seem like this was somewhere a former servant girl would be put to rest. Lance felt as if they had left that behind with the bone monster. 

Cecil came to a stop in front of a foreboding stone door, still holding the scrying amulet in his hand. Lance stopped not far behind and looked up, seeing that they were now as far as they could have gone.

“That giant hole is convenient,” Lance remarked upon observation, as there was a broken opening in the large stone door. Upon closer inspection, it had been blown open from the inside.

“This is the last chamber, she has to be in here…” Cecil said aloud, feeling his faint heartbeat in his chest as he walked forward. 

“We’re gonna need some light, so just stay close to me Ceece” Lance retrieved another torch from his backpack and used the tinderbox to light it. It seemed the crystals didn’t grow in this pitch black room.

“Alright.” Cecil stood by Lance but his thoughts were consumed with anxiety. He hadn’t realized he’d been clenching his fist so hard he almost broke the skin with his nails. His grip only loosened when he felt Lance’s warm hand against his, wrapping around gently. Cecil instinctively entwined their fingers. 

“It’s going to be okay. No matter what happens here I’ve got your back.” Lance reassured, the lit torch in hand ready to lead them into the darkness. 

“Thank you darling” Cecil allowed himself to smile as they ventured forward. 

The first thing that hit them was that stench of rot, the way a fog of humidity hits when first going outside on a hazy summer morning. Lance gagged as it was unlike anything else he had experienced thus far in the tombs. For Cecil, it reminded him of the den of ghouls. Just to be safe, Lance cast protection from evil and good, and other than the warm red aura that came from beside him, it was empty of any life. 

Lance’s foot came down and there was the grotesque squelch of something rotted. He yelped and jumped back. 

“Ew! What did I-?” Lance flashed the torch to the source and lost his voice in his throat. 

It was a rotting corpse, still wearing armor, though it hadn’t done much to stop the gaping slice opening up his stomach cavity, to which the guts had spilled out onto the stone floor, now liquified to a bloody liquid pulp. Their skin had fallen off in chunks or was hanging off by strips of flesh, and the coloring was unnatural for any race of the living. Due to being so far underground, there were no maggots or other insects to abet decomposition, the body left to time. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick” Lance gagged and tore his eyes away from the scene. 

“I’m afraid we’re going to be seeing more poor bastards like this” Cecil nudged the corpse with his foot, causing it to slump over and more liquid to bleed from its orifices. “Gross. Just prepare your stomach” 

“I’m so happy all I’ve had to eat are rations” Lance groaned to himself, feeling his stomach gurgle before the pair continued on ahead. 

Every now and again they stumbled across another corpse, all in varying states of decay. Some of them were mostly skeletons, while others looked as if they had only been dead a few years. It was bizarre, unnatural. 

“How are some of them still so like- fleshy?” Lance asked, looking to Cecil who was now walking ahead of him, now looking at the amulet again. 

“I want to assume it's the bodies of more unlucky tomb raiders, but their armor and weapons seem too old for them to be from Magnus.” Cecil began, pointing out a body that laid on the ground near them, wearing armor and a spear still in their grip. 

Lance realized Cecil didn’t mean design styles or features, but the armor looked like it had been there for decades, rusting and broken, while the corpses themselves looked only a few years old. It simply didn’t line up, especially as even the victims of the bone monster for the most part had become skeletons. 

“I feel like if there were that many grave robbers, this place wouldn’t have looked as untouched as it does right now. Even the bard’s song told people to just leave it alone.” Lance replied, his voice soft. 

“So you took that as the go ahead to come here alone?” 

“I didn’t think I’d end up so deep.”

“...right. She’s right ahead I think.” 

Then the light of their torch, which illuminated a wide space around them due to the closeness of the passageway, shifted, the glow only extending a few feet around them. They had passed into what was the final chamber. 

“I can barely see shit” Lance squinted as he looked past the torchlight, his darkvision doing little to help him. 

“I wonder if there’s some kind of lighting in here…” Cecil felt along the walls until he felt a familiar cutout.  _ “Why is there a keyhole in here?”  _

Cecil produced the ruby key and brought it to the hole, pressing the ruby to it, though he couldn’t help but notice the ruby’s glow was much dimmer than it had been before. Slowly, faint crystal fixtures came to a dim soft light, illuminating the high ceiling chamber beyond the torch. His eyes went wide as he brought a hand to his mouth at what he then saw. 

“Holy shit-” Lance whispered in morbid awe as the collection of bodies that littered the room came to light. They were similar to the bodies they had seen throughout the corridor, some of them skeletal while others still wore rotted stubborn flesh. There had clearly been some kind of struggle too, as corpses laid littered with wounds while there were weapons scattered across the ground. “What happened here?” 

“A mess, that’s what.” Cecil noticed how there were still some riches that looked to be scattered through the chamber, the glimmer of jewels and precious metals catching in the dim light. “But I think we figured out where the tomb raiders were stealing from. Must’ve missed the initial ransacking.”

“What do you think killed them? And in the name of Hadan why are they still so fresh looking?” Lance asked, seeing how many of them had been brutalized in some way, and he could only assume the tearing bitemarks in some of the bodies were from vampires. He still felt a bit sick.

“Looks like it was a final stand of some kind, and these guys lost,” Cecil replied before kicking one of the bodies over with his boot, causing it to roll onto its back with a clattering of armor. Right on the breastplate of the armor, there was the emblem of a Ruby Rose. Cecil’s eyes went wide as he started to piece things together.

“These were Domik’s men. That much I can tell.” his voice was grim, full of unyielding resentment and disgust. ”I can’t say I feel sorry for them. They got what they deserved” 

_ “That’s kinda harsh Ceece''  _ Lance thought at first, as it was clear whatever end they had met was a gruesome one. The Goddess Enrasil he served was the goddess of mercy after all. She hated nobody, and only took pity on even the most evil of beings, sorry for whatever had happened to cause their wickedness. Lance always admired the sentiment, and his mother had wanted him to think similarly, to have empathy for every living thing. Lance tried to live this way as best he could, and he liked to think he did a pretty good job at times. 

Lance couldn’t feel this way when it came to creatures like he knew Domik to be. There was nothing there to pity when it came to those who were cruel and sadistic for no reason other than their own self pleasure. Even if he would never meet him, Lance knew he hated the vampire lord. 

_ “I hope he’s doing okay,”  _ Lance thought as he studied Cecil’s expression. 

“So what are they doing here?” He then asked, almost hesitantly. “I mean this wouldn’t be where Domik died right?” 

“No. He died before any of this, I know that for a fact. If I had to guess these guys were trying to stop whatever looting they could, taking what they could and holding up down here.” Cecil nudged one of the other bodies with his foot as if to examine it, seeing more of the scuffed up roses. ”Doing what they could to serve their precious master like the dogs they were.” 

“So it wasn’t to stop looters?” Lance asked, remembering how Cecil said the necromancy that animated the bones would’ve been severed with the death of the caster. 

“Nope, unless whoever did it was on Domik’s side, but got taken captive by the enemy and is being kept alive in some lord’s basement.” Cecil walked away from the body to look at another. “There’s really no way to tell, not that it matters much anyway.” The vampire scoffed, and Lance caught the glimpse of disgust in his gaze as he looked over another slightly decomposed body. 

“Politics here are weird y’know.” Lance knelt down to look through some of the remains, though he was slightly put off by the level of disgust and apathy in Cecil’s voice. They were still alive at some point, weren’t they? They were still people who got killed by some power hungry lord or lady in the name of their master, presumably after his death. Lance didn’t agree with the idea but he could empathize, at least he tried to. “There’s so much unnecessary carnage.” 

Lance looked over one more body. It was the partially rotted body of someone who died laid out across the floor as if it had happened as he slept. There was a gold chain around his neck with a pendant hanging from it. Lance inspected it using the end of a knife to pick it up, and it was engraved with a name.

“Welcome to Aetroth darling,” Cecil said curtly and pulled away from the corpse, not needing any further inspections, having gotten the answers he needed. But he couldn’t help but wonder who exactly was responsible, not that it cared. “I’d put my bet in for The Countess, she had it out for Domik after she killed allies his allies that is.” 

“...and I thought Magnus was complicated. Did you ever-” Lance paused, trying to picture what kind of force this Countess woman was. “Did you ever meet her?” 

“A few times when I was taken to court. Elegant woman, gifted speaker, and she always had some kind of ward by her side.”

“You mean like a kid?”

“Yep, normally just some human orphan she decided would be her pet, like when people carry around small dogs. I never really knew if she genuinely cared or if they were just...a commodity to her.” Cecil’s voice sounded distant. “A living thing that existed for entertainment, so long as they were useful.”

A beat of silence fell between them. Lance tried to study Cecil’s expressions but came up with nothing. He wasn’t sure what to even say…

“We need to find Zetta.” Cecil followed up, looking back at the amulet in his hands. “I don’t understand what’s going on either… She should be right here at least according to this thing.” 

Lance pondered for a moment. He observed Cecil’s anxious pacing around the room as he palmed the amulet, his head craned up as if one of the crypts would jump out at him. His head followed and saw there were no wrapped up bodies stacked atop each other, only a high ceiling carved out of marble and stone with pillars rocketing upwards. It didn’t even look like it was part of the catacombs. 

“I mean could you be remembering it wrong? It’s been a while since you were here and everything. Maybe she’s in another chamber?” Lance asked. 

“No...No that can’t be it.” Cecil replied pensively “Despite the shortcomings it would make me follow the right memory. It wouldn’t be affected by simple misremembering.” Cecil bit his thumbnail anxiously. Then his eyes filled with dread “Unless…” 

They were both silent. Lance thought it over, his eyes looking around at the massacre of bodies. Past the bodies, he made out the tile mosaic on the floor, a pile of bodies crowded around a broken throne, rusted weapons outnumbering the bodies. This wasn’t just a place for the dead to rest, it was almost like a safe house. But if this wasn’t a chamber for the dead, it had to be something else entirely. 

“Unless the memory itself is wrong,” Lance said aloud, looking to Cecil hesitantly, though he could tell by Cecil’s dreaded gaze he thought the same thing. 

“N-no that can’t be it.” Cecil held his arms tightly, balling the amulet in his fist. “There has to be another reason. Maybe I’m just not focusing hard enough...I could try and find another spell but I don’t know if that would work either.” He sounded almost terrified, his words laced with crushing anxiety as if the very atmosphere himself was weighing down on him. Lance felt his worry grow. 

“Cecil I think we should step out of here. You sound anxious and you’re going to need a clear head for this.” Lance stood and started to walk over to Cecil.

“I can’t do that! We’re so close and I...It’s like something’s calling me to remember this place. If she’s here and I lose her then-” Cecil turned his back to Lance, the quaking apparent in his voice. “Then I’m abandoning her again.”

“You aren’t abandoning her Ceece. We’ll come right back to this room and look again after you calm down.” Lance stopped near Cecil next to the corpse with the engraved amulet. He just hoped Cecil would listen to him. 

He watched the vampire’s shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath he took, his back still turned to Lance. Cecil clenched the amulet in hand and shook his head. 

_ “You should listen to him. You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him you idiot.”  _ Cecil thought as he turned heel and looked back at the kindly cleric. He took a deep breath and started to walk back to Lance until he stood in front of him. 

Cecil looked up at Lance, still towering over him as he always did, though it was a simple comfort at this point. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Lance’s shoulder, his eyes closed shut as he tried to calm himself down. The amulet dropped to the floor, falling from Cecil’s relaxed fist. 

“I got you” Lance smiled softly and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his thumb against his shoulder hoping to relax him just a bit. “Want me to carry you out?” 

“Come on I don’t need all that. Let’s just get out of here.” Cecil gave a small laugh as they pulled away from each other. Lance took a step to walk to the door ready expecting Cecil to follow shortly. 

Cecil stood still for a moment, leaning his head back with his eyes closed to take another deep breath. He realized then he wasn’t holding the amulet, remembering it had fallen from his grip. He dropped his head and opened his eyes, seeing it on the ground next to a corpse. 

“Gross. Dead people juice” He rolled his eyes and bent down to pick it up, swiping his thumb over the gem to clean off anything that had gotten on it from the body. Unfortunately, his eyes lingered for too long. 

The shiny pendant caught his eye as it would anyone. Fine gold with an engraved rose detailed with rubies laid on one side. It was a pendant given to Domik’s best men, usually vampires in the highest rank of his guard. Cecil didn’t know why it made his stomach drop the way it did, but in his chest, he felt his heartbeat thud as he reached out for it with a trembling hand. He turned it over and in an ornate block font, it read a certain name. 

_ Idris _

“BASTARD!” Cecil bared his teeth and shouted in anger, dropping the golden pendent and standing to his feet. Lance heard Cecil’s cry and turned back with a new rush of adrenaline upon hearing the palpable anger in his voice. 

Standing firm over the body, Cecil swung his leg back and with a swift kick, sent the rotted head flying into the wall with a wet splat. “Worse than a fucking pig!”

Lance jumped in surprise from the sudden attack, realizing all of Cecil’s calmness just flew out the nonexistent window. He wasn’t sure what Cecil just saw on that corpse but he had the worst feeling in his gut. 

Cecil kicked the corpse with the sound of hard hitting force coming every time he made contact. The decayed bones snapped under the force and the rotted flesh squished as he slammed a foot down again and again to the point there was coagulated blood pooling and spraying. He shouted out curses in languages Lance didn’t understand, as much as the Vampire’s breaking voice would allow.

“Hell would be paradise for you!” Cecil almost lost his balance but regained it before falling into the pool of blood.

“Cecil! What-!” He began but quickly realized Cecil wasn’t listening. On top of that, Lance started to feel sick watching him. “What are you doing?” He demanded 

After a few more kicks, Cecil just looked down at his boots, now slimy with rotted blood as the corpse’s torso had almost turned to liquid, the pendant lost in the mess. He was oblivious to the spray of blood that had started to cover his face and chest. Lance caught a glimpse of his eyes and saw a sea of anger and hatred, but more importantly, fear. 

“That's not enough…” Cecil said allowed, voice low and trembling before turning his gaze to where he had kicked the head. He walked over to the decapitated head. It was rotted but somehow Cecil felt as if the eye sockets were looking back at him, mocking him. 

Cecil’s foot slammed down on the side of the corpse's head, a squelch coming out from the underside of his boot. Lance felt his whole body lurch as if on auto-pilot. If it hadn’t felt so tense, he could have thought his actions through, but instead, all he could focus on was the brutality of it all. The decaying bodies, the stench of death, and now Cecil lashing out at some unknown corpse. He might still be a rookie, but wasn’t his duty under Enrasil to enact mercy of some kind? It...It wasn’t right.

“Cecil stop!” Lance got on his feet. He didn’t know if this would cause Cecil to rage, or breakdown- but the wild look in his eyes couldn’t lead to anything good. Cecil looked like he was going to break into screams or tears any moment. 

The corpse had some give against Cecil’s boot with the sound of slow cracking as he pressed harder. Cecil’s eyes were dead focused on the decapitated head, watching how it broke and split. Despite the rot, he could still recognize it as the face of he who was the catalyst to all that suffering. Cecil felt his heart pulse in fear as he bared his teeth, oblivious to Lance’s voice, as if everything around him had gone silent. Memories of that night burned into his mind's eye clearing away that inescapable fog that had been protecting him leaving only poison in the air around him robbing him of his senses. With that protection gone and faced bare with the truth, Cecil felt as if he would collapse any moment, his body aching like it did that night. The begging, hot tears rolling down his eyes, the stench of blood,  _ the pain  _ . Maybe he could have avoided it all, if only he had killed Idris when he had the chance. 

The head was nearly about to break as Cecil felt himself get pulled away from the corpse by someone much stronger than him. The corpse then rolled back, but its eyes, the ones nearly blown out of its head, continued to stare at him. 

“NO!” Cecil shouted, his voice breaking in frustration and anger, unable to look away from the dead eyes of the nearly crushed head. 

“Cecil I said stop!” Lance had pulled Cecil back, his arm wrapped around the vampire’s chest and holding him back as he braced for resistance. 

“Let me go!” Cecil shouted as tears he didn’t even realize had formed rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the strewn blood. He struggled against Lance’s hold but with little avail. The bottom of his boots were so caked in blood he found it hard to brace them on the smooth marble floor.

“You aren’t being rational!” Lance replied, his voice no longer gentle and calm, now taking on a more commanding tone. “You’re only getting yourself more worked up!” 

“I don’t care! Let me- Let me destroy him- Pigs like him deserve no rest!” He thrashed and kicked again, his heels sliding under him. 

“It won’t accomplish anything! It’s just a corpse now” Lance was realizing that with all the horrible things that must have happened here, it must’ve been finally taking a toll on his companion. Instead, he held him tighter, almost lifting him off the ground now. “You have to calm down!” 

The yellowed red eyes were still looking back at Cecil even as he kicked. His head was pounding like there was a vice squeezing it. He barely processed what Lance was saying- but he knew he was telling him to do something. Telling. Ordering. 

Cecil stopped thrashing, his body near limp in Lance’s hold. 

“...don’t tell me what to do…” but his voice was so soft Lance couldn’t even hear it.

“What?” but still Lance didn’t let go. 

“Don’t tell me what to do- I fucking hate when people tell me what to do-!” With that Cecil sharply jerked his elbow back, hitting Lance in the area of his stomach not protected by his half-plate armor. 

“Fuck-” Lance let go of his grasp out of shock, the wind knocked out of him. It hurt but not nearly enough to do any actual damage. It was clear that basic words weren’t going to calm him down. 

“They don’t deserve anything! I want revenge on them all!” Cecil pulled away, almost slipping into the pool of blood sparks of an eldritch blast forming in his hands. Cecil looked around frantically, his tunnel vision gone, realizing they were surrounded by the corpses of vampires. Domik’s vampires. Ones who were too pathetic to think for themselves, ones just as responsible for his suffering, for Zetta's death. It was as if this room was far too familiar, the feeling of being inside it a crushing weight to remind him of all that had happened that night. The room was morphing into how it looked that night when Domik had threatened to break him beyond all repair.

Lance grabbed his arm. 

“...Calm Emotions.” 

The cleric prayed it would work. 

Suddenly, it felt like someone had opened up a window, clearing out the noxious haze that was choking his senses. The crackle of purple energy ceased and his hands fell to his side. Cecil let out a breath it felt like he had been holding for far too long and the heat in his blood turned to ice. His knees trembled, buckling as he dropped to the floor, nails claws scratching against the stone floor. His head hung low, his hair spilling over his shoulders and hiding his face. He was gasping for breath now, finally aware of how many tears were falling from his eyes, but instead of wailing out in pain, he only was able to let out small whimpers. 

Lance was right, they were just corpses. 

And this room was not just a tomb, it was a slaughterhouse. 

Lance now caught his breath. He’d successfully cast Calm Emotions, a spell that could aid in even the most intense mental pain, and he had cast it just in time. It felt almost wrong to use it on people without permission, but Lance didn't think about that right now.

“Cecil…?” Lance calmly approached the small heap on the ground, his head hung down and fists balled. He could hear his strangled breathing like a wounded animal.

“I remember…” Cecil’s small, shattered voice whispered. “This isn’t where she’s buried...it's where she was killed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me so long to get this section done but it's so worth it! The reason for all these tags now rears its head and I'm so sorry. Chapters 14 and 15 will be up soon but I wanted to leave this one on a bit of a cliffhanger. Any comments, shares, or feedback would be amazing and super helpful. Hit me up at @gaycalculator on tumblr! Thanks so much for reading!


	15. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domik's cruelty knows no bounds, and he torments Cecil even after death. Cecil would give anything not to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings   
> VERY GRAPHIC VIOLENCE  
> Depictions of abuse   
> Implied sexual assault   
> Physical & Emotional abuse   
> Gore and Violence 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CAN BE SKIPPED IF IT IS TOO UPSETTING

Lance’s green eyes opened wide. He realized then that he had no clue how Zetta had met her end, Cecil had avoided telling him the entire time. 

“Cecil?” Lance knelt to the ground and placed his hand on Cecil’s back. He could feel how the other trembled like a child cowering. 

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry I couldn’t…” He tried to speak but it was broken by his short gasping breaths. His vision blurred as his memory was overwhelmed by the strong scent of blood. 

-

_ When he awoke, his body felt heavier than it had ever been before. His vision was blurred and everything sounded muffled, including the rattling of chains around his throat and wrists that kept him chained to the floor. He felt hair sticking to his skin and the smell of blood covering him, but instead of being intoxicating, it made him feel sick like he could vomit any moment. He didn’t realize how heavy he was breathing, especially for someone who only needed shallow breaths, though it didn’t matter how much air filled his lungs.  _

_ With his senses still clouded, he heard a soft but desperate voice call out, their words muffled but familiar.  _

_ “Cecil?” It was Zetta’s voice.  _

_ Upon realizing it was her, he instinctively lurched towards the sound of her voice, but the chains pulled him back like a tied up dog trying straying too far from its post. He choked feeling the metal press against his neck as he fell backward, catching himself on the palms of his hands and falling against the cold stone floor.  _

_ “Zetta! Zetta are you alright?” His throat burned as he spoke, his voice coming out weak and strangled. Though his vision was still blurred, he could make out the shape of her body, chained down just as he with her face turned towards him. However much to his horror, when his vision began to focus the first thing he met was her green eyes, drowned in one emotion. _

_ Sorrow.  _

_ “Thank the gods you’re awake,” She said softly with a smile, though it was obvious she was trying not to cry.  _

_ Before he could reply, he was interrupted by a low chuckle.  _

_ “Don’t worry dear, I knew he’d join us eventually.” Domik laughed, and Cecil turned to face the source. His master sat with his legs crossed on a throne, eyes fixated on the two individuals with a gleam in his eye that would send a chill down the spines of even the bravest of heroes. “After all, anyone would be reeling from an experience like the one you two had.”  _

_ Cecil felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him as he remembered everything that had happened, the door to his memory crashing open and flooding his mind. His eyebrows knit together and his jaw trembled, the taste of blood still on his lips, eyes unable to look at the monster in front of him.  _

_ “Did you enjoy it, my little pet?” Domik’s voice cooed, almost fondly in nature. Cecil heard him stand, his boots walking closer to him. “The feeling of unbridled rage? The taste of their blood? I’m honestly impressed, I would’ve never thought a pretty thing had that kind of carnage in them.” _

_ Cecil refused to look at him until the tip of a boot pressed under his chin and harshly pointed his head up. His eyes locked with the vampiric lord through blood stained white hair and he grit his teeth.  _

_ “What am I going to do with you now? I mean, killing my men, attempting to escape, and for what, all because of this little house wench?” Domik pondered. There was no anger in his voice. “I must say Zetta, a mere human causing all this dissonance. Have you no respect for other people’s things?”  _

_ “D-My lord please.” Cecil struggled to speak, but he pushed through. “She-she had nothing to do with this...it’s I who disobeyed you!” He put himself through more groveling, but he wouldn’t let this man put Zetta in his sights.  _

_ “Cecil please, I know that isn’t true.” Domik’s foot dropped from Cecil’s chin, but as his head dropped, it was then sharply yanked back by a fistful of hair tightened in Domik’s grip. He was even closer now, his gaze like that of a predator playing with its meal. “I know you disobeyed me, and honestly I question why I haven’t just killed you already for such an act.”  _

_ Cecil didn’t know either. As he looked around, he felt there was something wicked about this room, the overwhelming feeling of death. He didn’t even need to ask to know so many had met their demise here, as the stone itself was saturated with stains of blood. This was a place where people went to die.  _

_ “Do you have nothing to say? Nothing to say when you reject the kindness I’ve given you for so many years? The gifts I’ve bestowed upon you my pet? I never would have thought Cecil Baranski to be such an ungrateful wretch.” Cecil watched a clawed finger be dragged down his face, from temple to chin, silver threatening to break the skin.  _

_ “My lord...my master it was...it was foolish of me.” Cecil choked out, not daring to break away his gaze to Zetta, who’s face undoubtedly would have been plastered in horror. “I was being ungrateful...I meant not to reject you just...I wanted to feel the sun again…”  _

_ A smile curled on Domik’s lips, cold and wicked.  _

_ “I hope you learn not to want what you can’t have, dear Cecil”  _

_ Domik let loose his grip on Cecil’s hair, shoving his head down so he could watch Cecil try and catch himself before hitting the floor. Cecil’s body ached, he wanted to scream and cry, but it was like the anger in his blood was a drenched matchstick, unable to spark.  _

_ “Now now, Miss Zetta, what should I do with you?” Domik turned his attention to the human woman, looking down at her like a devil.  _

_ Zetta was terrified, but she refused to show it. She refused to look his way before his hand grabbing her chin forced her too. Her eyes were locked in a glare.  _

_ “Are you taking suggestions?” She replied defiantly, feeling the pressure from Domik’s fingers tighten. He sighed.  _

_ “Never have I regretted picking up a stray more than I do with you.”  _

_ Zetta said nothing. Cecil, who regained his bearings turned his attention to the scene, the fear in his chest heavy like a stone. His broken voice started to beg. _

_ “My lord please! I’m begging you do what you will with me just please don’t hurt-”  _

_ Domik swiftly backhanded him without even turning his attention, making blood pool in Cecil’s mouth. _

_ “I’ll kill both of you right here if you don’t hold your tongue.”  _

_ Like that the breath was stolen from the weakened vampire’s lungs. All Cecil could do is look on with guilt and fear.  _

_ “Did he put you up to this? If you say yes, I’ll let you go right now. He’ll get all the punishment he deserves and well, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to take his place.” Domik’s teeth showed as he grinned at her.  _

_ “Sounds like a bad idea, seeing as it was all my plan.” Zetta spat, fire burning in the eyes of such a gentle looking girl. She refused to just leave Cecil here, even if it meant putting herself in harm's way. She wouldn’t betray or abandon him here.  _

_ Cecil wanted to scream. He wanted to beg. He wanted Zetta to lie her way out of this castle and never come back. He wasn’t afraid of what he would meet so long as he knew she was alive. Safe back in Magnus.  _

_ “Sometimes loyalty is a blessing and a curse.” Domik jerked her head so her gaze would meet Cecil’s. His smile was twisted. “Let us see what he says.”  _

_ She saw how he looked so bloodied and beaten as if it was a ghost that was chained down instead of her friend. She remembered the way he looked as he slaughtered those guards with not a moment of hesitation. It was like a wild animal. But even then she felt no fear seeing him in that state. However, now she was terrified.  _

_ Cecil’s gaze met Zetta’s, tears filling his eyes in a silent apology.  _

_ ‘What is he about to do?’ Zetta’s thought, her stomach sinking.  _

_ “I-I asked her...a-and she didn’t have a choice…” Cecil lied. “She doesn’t deserve any punishment in this my lord…I was giving her an order.”  _

_ It was like a child trying to take the blame for breaking a vase, even if it took two to play ball in the house. After all, who wants to watch their friend get in trouble? Cecil had always put her safety before his own, and he wasn’t about to stop now. He knew she’d be mad but he hoped she could forgive him eventually.  _

_ Zetta wanted to yell at the idiot to shut up and let her take the blame. _

_ Domik’s yellow eyes glowed with sadistic pleasure watching his courtesan grovel. _

_ “Is that a fact? It seems you do have quite a loyal friend Miss Zetta, unwilling to throw you to the wolves.” Domik leered before he leaned in closer to Zetta’s face, squeezing her face in his clawed hand. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”  _

_ “Domik please!” Cecil’s voice broke like a shattering pane of glass. “Please I don’t care what you do to me please just let her go!”  _

_ The exclamation made Domik turn his sights back to the other vampire. Zetta’s green eyes filled with tears as she realized Cecil’s self sacrificing plan.  _

_ “Elaborate please my sweet.” Domik dropped Zetta’s chin and gave Cecil his full attention.  _

_ “Th-throw me to the ghouls...h-hunt me in the labyrinth! Kick, stab, kill me- do whatever you want!” Cecil struggled against his chains, trying to get closer to his master. He cared not how much he lowered himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to glance at Zetta. “Just please let her go! D-don’t hurt her...she doesn’t deserve any of this…Domik my lord...m-my love” The words were rancid in his throat. “Please spare her.”  _

_ It was his fault she put herself at risk, and he had failed to keep her safe. He knew he had no chance at freedom, but he would be damned if he let her be brought down with him. At that moment Cecil didn’t think of himself as a person, he was his own bartering chip.  _

_ There was a moment of silence that filled the chamber, not even a single rattle of chains could be heard.  _

_ “HA HA HA” Domik began to laugh like thunder, throwing his head back as he began to clap with sheer entertainment. Cecil grit his teeth, praying to whoever was listening. His mocking laughter seemed to carry on for a small eternity.  _

_ When the vampiric lord turned his gaze back down to his pet, he smiled wide with a renewed sense of calm.  _

_ “If that is the case I’ll make sure you endure the worst pain of your life, my sweet pet.”  _

_ Domik walked behind Zetta and with a kick to some latch, the chains that trapped her arms and neck were freed.  _

_ Without another word she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Cecil, warm tears streaming down her face. Her arms locked around his torso and her cheek pressed against his as her voice broke into a sob.  _

_ “You idiot…” She whispered without a trace of malice.  _

_ “Yeah, yeah I am an idiot.” Cecil let out the smallest laugh, unable to hold her in return, so instead, he buried his face between her neck and shoulders. The tears that ran down his cheeks were tinged red from dried blood. _

_ “I...I’m not going to leave you here. I’ll find some way.” She tried to promise. Her voice was so soft and broken it was barely audible, and it was the only thing Cecil was capable of hearing. He didn’t even hear the sound of heavy footsteps… _

_Zetta tried to quell her breathing as her hand wrapped around the back of Cecil’s head, burying him closer into her chest. Cecil could hear her heartbeat like a drum._ _  
__Zetta didn’t want to pull away, knowing she most likely wouldn’t see him again after this moment. She couldn’t afford to linger on that._

_ “You know I love you Zetta” Cecil whispered as tears stained her dress. She was the only family he had ever had, the one who reminded him to live. “R-right?”  _

_ Zetta closed her eyes and dipped her head down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He was her family after all. She tilted her head back up and felt tears run down her face and throat. _

_ “I love you too Cecil.” Then she opened her eyes.  _

_ Cecil felt her body go stiff and heard a muffled choking noise, like someone who was about to start bawling. He felt something warm run onto his forehead like cauldrons full of tears were spilling from her. Her hold around him dropped and her arms fell to her sides, but she didn’t get up. It was the end of the line. Cecil opened his eyes and let out a deep breath, knowing it was time for her to go.  _

_ “Come on Zetta you don’t need to cr-” Cecil pulled his head up to look at her, expecting to see her face turned ugly by tears, a weak but caring smile on his face. Instead what he saw was green eyes drained entirely of light, and the unmistakable sight of blood pouring down from a deep cut on her throat.  _

_ “Z-Zetta…?” His voice was almost nonexistent as he leaned back the slightest bit. When he did so, her body shifted back, and so did her head.  _

_ Her head fell backwards, hinged to her body by a few layers of skin, causing a spray of thick dark blood to spray from the stump of her neck into Cecil's face and chest, like an erupting volcano. His senses were assaulted by the stench, his pupils constricted so tight all he could see was her, and Domik’s legs behind her, as well as the handle of the battle axe he was leaning on.  _

_ Her body slumped forward into his person, swinging the loosely attached head to the side, causing just enough force to tear the final few layers of skin off. Cecil heard it hit the stone floor like someone had dropped a melon. For a moment, he could see down inside her body and all the bones and blood that had kept her alive before the fresh corpse slumped into his chest.  _

_ Cecil couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. His body refused to move an inch aside from his eyes that slowly looked up to Domik’s face.  _

_ Domik wore only a smug grin as he twirled the end of his blood stained battle ax like it was a toy. Cecil was frozen in place, unable to feel the need to live when all he wanted in that moment was to die.  _

_ “I told you, I’d make you experience the worst pain of your life.” Domik reached down and grabbed the corpse by the shoulder before throwing it into the wall behind him as if it was a ragdoll. His heel made her head roll as his foot absentmindedly knocked it.  _

_ Cecil pulled against his chains but his gaze was now locked with Domik’s, unable to tear away. The ax dropped to the ground and Domik approached, beginning to crouch to Cecil’s level. He didn’t react when Domik reached out and grabbed his throat, shoving him down to the floor and forcing the rest of his body down with him causing the chains that bound him to dig into his back. Domik then grabbed his chin and jerked Cecil’s face to look at his, only a few inches away from him. It was then Cecil felt the sensation of dreaded horror return to him like an old friend. It was enough to make him feel fear of what was to come.  _

_ Domik’s smile only grew when he realized Cecil was cloaked in fear. It wasn’t any fun punishing someone who didn’t even register it.  _

_ “I expect you to endure the rest of it like an obedient pet should.” Domik’s finger brushed over Cecil’s blood-covered lips. “But you should feel lucky my dear, you should know I would never want to break my favorite things. I’ll even be gentle, mostly.”  _

_ Cecil had started to thrash against his chains when he felt the cold stone against his skin as his shirt was ripped clean off. Domik’s cold fingers inspected him like one would check for damages on a porcelain vase, though he let out a huff of annoyance when Cecil tried to jerk away from him even as he was being straddled. Every instinct he had was telling him to fight back, legs kicking out, twisting and turning, and refusing to meet the monster’s gaze. Domik’s nails broke skin as he pinned Cecil down by the shoulder and pressed a knee against his stomach, pressing the chains even harder against Cecil’s back as he was forced to lay atop them. He felt sick from the smell of blood that was covering him.  _

_ “G-Get off me…” Cecil struggled, unable to break away, his throat burning as he refused to give him any tears. The only thing he could do like this was refuse to look directly at him, eyes screwed shut.  _

_ Domik watched him with a sadistic pleasure, keeping him pinned down as he grabbed Cecil’s face. He lowered until Cecil could feel his breath against his face.  _

_ “It's in your best interest not to fight back, my dear Cecil,” Domik warned before he licked away a stain of blood from Cecil’s cheek.  _

_ Cecil jerked his head around a few more times, his eyes screwed shut before Domik’s hand pinned his face to the floor. When he opened his eyes, he felt he would be sick.  _

_ Zetta’s head was laying only a few feet away, her eyes open and frozen in fear, staring back at him. It would stay there, watching everything, unblinking for the rest of his torture.  _

_ “I hope you realize you’re never going to see the sunlight again.” Domik hissed.  _

_ Eventually, Cecil would pass out.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was heavy to write and please let me know if there is any way I can make it less exploitative, though I tried very hard to avoid it in the first place. This chapter helped me realize Cecil absolutely has PTSD as well as helped me learn more about his character and I hope you all will appreciate what I tried to do here. Thank you so much for reading.


	16. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Cecil unconsious, it's up to Lance to get him and Cecil out of this mess. Along the way he reflects on their journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings  
> Mentions of past abuse and trauma

Lance caught Cecil before his face hit the floor. His arms had buckled and fallen taking Cecil with him. Lance caught him around the chest and pulled him upright. 

“Cecil are you okay?!” The healer exclaimed with growing fear and panic. Lance pulled him back against his chest, his head tilted up with closed eyes. Lance touched his cheek realizing it was colder than it should’ve been, and then he noticed the other’s fresh nose bleed. “C-come on wake up-” Lance patted his cheek a few times, but the only response he had was Cecil’s head falling to the side as soon as any support was gone, like a ragdoll. 

“He’s out cold…” Lance could still see the other's chest slowly rising and falling, meaning he was still alive at the very least. Lance used a gloved hand to wipe the mixture of blood and tears off the other’s face. It left a bit of dirt but it was good enough. His gaze lingered on Cecil’s face, remembering the cries and screams of anguish he had been wailing as if they were still happening. He had sounded like he was in so much pain, the way Lance had sounded when he sobbed for his brother. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to die...he wondered if Cecil felt the same way. 

The cleric shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and laid it on a part of the floor that hadn’t gotten any blood on it. Gently, he laid the unconscious warlock down with his head supported by the sack. Lance doubted Cecil would mind if it was a bit uncomfortable. 

It was scary to see him like that. Cecil was usually so calm and level headed, so to see him utterly shatter and lash out like that, it was like he was an entirely different person for a moment. Lance pressed a hand to his stomach where Cecil had elbowed him. He knew it was going to bruise but he didn’t care, he knew Cecil hadn’t done it with ill intent towards him, it was a survival response. It was no different than an animal biting to defend itself, though Lance kicked himself for not handling it better than he felt he did. He just needed to stop Cecil from destroying that head, for as distraught as he was, it wouldn’t have done him any favors in the end. It was no way to heal from the pain he knew Cecil was feeling. Lance looked over to where Cecil laid, looking almost helpless if Lance didn’t know any better. He didn’t want to hear someone sob like that again.

“Just rest for now, okay Ceece?” he said to his sleeping companion, reaching over to brush a piece of blood stained hair off his cheek. He noticed that compared to when others slept, where some kind of emotion or movement under the eyes were usually noticeable, Cecil was laying there like a corpse. Lance only hoped that meant Cecil wasn’t having any nightmares in his death like sleep.

Lance sighed and looked around the pit of death they had found themselves in. There was no way they were going to be able to make it back up any time soon, going back the way they came, and with Cecil unconscious Lance didn’t know if he’d be able to protect them both anyway. He thought about carrying Cecil out of this room just in case he was going to wake up, but he didn’t want to risk getting locked out either. 

He got to his feet and paced around the room, looking for any door or exit he had missed in the chaos. The room had been carved clean out of the rock, the walls smooth to the touch and decorated with the glowing crystals that had been cut into intentional fixtures. The corpses lying strewn about wore their corroded armor and now that he knew what he was looking at, saw the rose crest and chained pendants around their necks. Lance didn’t even think about touching them. 

“Come on Lance- Think of something…” he said to himself, looking around for any kind of door or exit, but to little avail. He groaned in frustration and resisted the urge to kick a corpse. In another pile, he caught sight of some treasures like the ones they had taken from the looters outside and remembered he wasn’t the first one to make it down here in however many decades. Somehow, normal looters had managed to make it into this chamber that it had taken them over two days to get to but had died because of some old enchanted bones that liked to crush things. Cecil himself even said that the giant door they went through to get into the tombs hadn’t even been opened in decades, and Lance had a feeling Valora would’ve walked out inside of one of them if she had come into contact with them at any point. It was like the fact they were there existed just to mock him and how stuck he was, both physically and mentally. 

“How the hell did those looters get down here and I can’t even find an exit!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up and pressing a palm to his face. He stared at the door they had entered from, the only doorway inside. Lance closed his eyes and wondered if there was something he was missing...

_ “There are other ways down into these chambers, hidden pathways, and entrances throughout the castle or other places on the grounds, but Domik rarely let me use them. Probably was trying to prevent me from doing anything unchecked. In the castle's abandoned state it wouldn’t surprise me if those men were unlucky enough to find one of those entrances.”  _

“WAIT” Lance exclaimed, remembering what Cecil had said earlier about the secret passages. It made total sense, it was the only way looters would’ve been able to make it into this room without disturbing the rest of the catacombs. They had used one to escape from that hoard at the library too, even if it led into a less than savory place. It meant there had to be a passage somewhere around here that led to the surface that the looters had used to find their way down here. Even if it ended up sucking for them. 

“HAHA YES! Okay, secret passage time.” Lance rubbed his hands together as if he was ready to find it by digging up something. He looked around excitedly as if he was expecting the answer to pop out, not that he understood the trick. It did not. “Crap.” 

This was going to be a bit more difficult than he thought.

Lance started by walking around the perimeter, moving bodies out of the way the best he could in case they were blocking that covenanted exit. Instead of that, all Lance discovered was a myriad of horrible new smells and that it was horrifyingly easy for him to accidentally pull a corpse’s leg off when he tried to pull a stack away from what looked like a door cut out. It ended up just being part of a broken throne that had been partially smashed at some point. Lance thought it strange that there was a throne, to begin with, and even more weird that he tripped over a set of chains that were bound to the floor. 

“Is this supposed to be a dungeon or-” Lance decided he’d rather not ask himself that. 

Lance failed to find a single out of place stone or leaver or even some conspicuously placed book he could’ve pulled down to reveal a stairway with a sign pointed ‘up’. He wanted to hit his head against a wall but instead opted for throwing his head back and groaning loudly as he walked back to where Cecil was laying down. Starting to feel a bit defeated, and like he might have to carry a vampire through deadly catacombs when he couldn't even remember which way to go, he laid down aside Cecil who hadn’t moved an inch. 

Lance’s gaze focused upwards at the high ceiling as he rested his arms behind his head. No matter how far above it was, he knew that the outside was there and there was some way to get to it. He would kill someone for a breath of fresh air right about then. Instead, the cleric closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, allowing himself to relax in this chamber of death and decay. 

He wasn’t much of a cleric in way of piety and following the ways of temple and scripture. After all, he was born with these abilities rather than getting them through prayer and devotion. But with all that being said, Lance did very much believe in the Living Gods, even if many questioned if they were even still alive after they were said to have been struck down. Even if he wasn’t the best at his ‘job’, he still felt like maybe Enrasil would help him out, just this once. 

_ “Hey, Enrasil, it’s me, your boy Lance.”  _ He thought, having no way of knowing if he was making any kind of contact or he was just thinking to himself.  _ “Look I’m in kinda a fix. Please don’t think I’m asking for you to come teleport us out of this mess, your Mercifulness but...think you could give me a hint?”  _

Lance laid there in meditation hoping he’d get to hear some voice echo back clear as day in his head. But as the moments ticked by he came to realize such a thing was not happening. 

“Well shit…” Lance sighed, beginning to come to terms with the face he would be carrying an unconscious vampire through the maze of catacombs the long way. Beginning to sit up, he opened his eyes-   
“Wait.” Lance’s gaze caught the high ceiling and immediately fell on a rather peculiar looking circle carved above. He realized then he had yet to look all the way around the ceiling, making him quickly get to his feet and move to the center of the patterned circle that took up the middle of the room. There was a large circle, and then a second smaller circle inside that matched the exact same pattern that was on the blood soaked floor he stood on. They matched each other perfectly, and the cleric broke into a huge grin. “Oh Lance you are AWESOME” 

Lance first ran to the outside of the circle, dropping down to his knees and grabbing at the outside edge of where the pattern was carved into the floor, hoping for a dip meaning it was some kind of lift or platform. But instead his fingertips just hit pure rock. 

“Ouch ouch- okay not that.” Lance pulled his hand back and shook it a few times as he looked for another method. After pondering a moment, Lance cleared everything off the main circle, pushing the corpses into various corners as best as he could as well as moving the still unconscious Cecil to just outside the perimeter. Surveying the circle where blood slicked over half of it, Lance began to walk around, starting with the outer circle and slowly moving inwards. His eyes were trained to the ground as he looked for anything like a pressure plate or order of stones signifying some kind of pattern that may have acted like a lock or trigger. However, after meticulously circling for what had to be 10 minutes, Lance came up short again. There wasn’t even the obvious answer, a ruby shaped keyhole in the center of the circle, and Lance got on his hands and knees to make sure of that. 

“Domik you asshole! Couldn’t you have made this a little easier damn-” Lance groaned, feeling like he was being mocked. Thing was he felt bad after he cursed the dead vampire lord in a rather frivolous way. He saw what Cecil just went through, and though Lance wasn’t much one for killing, he would’ve been happy to shove his sword through that monster’s heart just once. Lance had pressed his palms against his eyes trying to stave off an oncoming headache, unable to stop thinking of how much a prick Domik was. He remembered what Cecil had told him, about how sadistic and cruel he was. Feeding people to monsters, killing his subordinates for no reason, and well...whatever he did to Cecil back in the day. Again, Lance didn’t want to think about it. And in all these stories, Cecil said how much he liked to watch the pain of others, laughing and smiling as he tore them down til they were nothing. Lance thought of that stupid ornate throne that had been in the throne room, and how it was from there he was able to cause lifetimes worth of suffering. 

Throne. 

The word seemed to glow in Lance’s mind as he whipped his head back to where he had seen that busted throne carved out of stone, which he had mistaken for a door. There had been a rather simple pattern carved into it, but it was barely visible due to blood and water damage.  
“Domik tell me you’re stupid enough to set both your circle entrances up the same way.” Lance said to himself as he climbed over a pile of the bodies to make it to the broken throne. He started to inspect it, but pieces of it that were broken and missing made it hard to make even the smallest sense of the decorative pattern carved into it. “What was it Cecil did…?” Lance asked himself, but as if he already knew the answer, his hand traveled down to the side of the throne where it was actually still intact. Just as Cecil had done when they first met, when Lance’s fingers met the center, a stone pressed down and a rumbling began, but this time it was from above. “YES!” 

Some rocks and cobwebs began to fall from the shaking ceiling as Lance quickly made his way back over to Cecil, grabbing his backpack before lifting Cecil up, the unconscious vampire slumped against his chest still unmoving. 

“We’re going to get out of here,” Lance said in soft reassurance as a staircase began to come down from the ceiling. It spiraled downwards like a corkscrew, made out of stone and metal. It was large, not a very tight fit, meaning Lance wouldn’t have a problem carrying so much up it. Lance did very much realize he was going to have to walk the entire way and he had no clue how far down they were. He shrugged it off, taking it as just another simple fact of life. 

“You totally owe me” Lance joked to Cecil, if not just as a small way of trying to quell his worry for his companion. He took one last look around the room before taking his first step onto the staircase. This chamber never needed to be reopened again, and all he could do was hope it stayed that way. Right before he turned his attention fully towards his monstrous climbing task, he did catch sight of something. 

Idris’ head was still sitting there on the floor, blood leaking out from every orifice and crack, but intact nonetheless. Lance narrowed his eyes and shifted Cecil closer, freeing up one hand. 

Just because Cecil didn’t need this, didn’t mean Lance couldn’t do it for him. With a snap of his fingers, a sacred flame ignited the head, burning it just as Lance began his ascent. 

If Lance hadn’t had his elven blood, gifting him with darkvision, the task would've been nearly impossible. The light from the crystal illuminated slaughterhouse only reached so far up, and soon Lance was in pitch darkness climbing the spiral staircase. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he took his first rest, but he did so slumped against where steps meet stone on the carved out wall. Lance wondered where this would let him out, hoping it wasn’t going to be in the middle of the plains somewhere. What kind of animals were even in Aetroth? 

Lance wondered if he should feel bitter, finding himself in a situation so drawn out and horrifying. He never would have had to deal with this all if he hadn’t gotten involved with Cecil that is. In his travels he’d met plenty of people who would’ve abandoned Cecil when they got what they wanted, much like when Cecil had led him to the library and told him he didn’t have to stick around. He would’ve been back in Magnus, most likely being chewed out by Damien who probably had caught up by now for being such an idiot and going to that castle by himself, but he would’ve had the spoils to prove it was worth it. And where would Cecil have been? 

He could’ve been killed by any number of spirits, shadows or that wraith, left lifeless in that dark dark hallway. He could have met Valora only to be torn to shreds by ghouls, or worse. Lance shuttered to think about being possessed again. 

Then there was that coffin. What would’ve happened if Cecil had found that coffin first? What if Cecil’s curiosity had gotten the better of him?

Lance instinctively caressed Cecil’s cheek, feeling overly protective all of the sudden at the thought of Cecil getting stuck in there after he had gained his freedom he showed to care so deeply about. It was really that simple fact that made Lance forget any ounce of bitterness he might’ve had about getting so deeply involved with this whole adventure. Cecil needed someone, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Lance hadn't thought much about the fact Cecil had braved a place like this just on the chance he could lay his friend to rest, but it was one of the most selfless, if not reckless acts Lance could think of. Judging by all that had happened in the ‘slaughterhouse’, Lance could only assume being back here was a fate worse than hell for the little vampire he had grown so fond of. 

He remembered the look worn on Cecil’s face when his hair was long and white, seeing it through Valora’s eyes. It had been a different person altogether, someone who looked as if they might have given up on life itself. There was no fire in his deep crimson eyes in that memory. 

Cecil had lived, and died, and lived again, pushing forward for what he wanted. Freedom. Cecil seemed to have resurrected himself from that ghostly person he had been at Domik’s side, and was determined to enjoy it until the end. Lance almost wished he knew how.

“What happened to you here Ceece?” Lance asked softly as he looked towards the small vampire still unconscious against him. He feared to know what his answer would be. 

Lance closed his eyes, his head resting against Cecil’s who was slumped against his shoulder. When Lance awoke, he was ready to climb again, even if he was sorer than he had ever been before. 

“I should’ve done this last time-” Lance sighed as he prepared a new spell, annoyed that he had forgotten such a useful spell. He cast Bear’s Endurance on himself, much like he had done when he walked from Magnus into Aetroth, an over 15 mile journey that had been made much easier with this spell. With a newfound burst of energy, Lance felt the soreness vanish like he could now race even the swiftest of competitors. However, it didn’t change the fact Lance was sick of climbing. “I’m so going to the hot springs after this…” 

He felt a wash of relief when he heard the smallest groan from Cecil in his arms. He didn’t make any other movements or even signify he might wake up, but it was something. 

Lance wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he saw the smallest trickle of light touch the walls around him. He breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that first inkling of freedom. He raised a hand to ensure he wasn’t going to hit his head the further up he walked, and other than a close brush with the ledge of the opening of the exit, he had made it through uninjured. When Lance took the last step out from the deep spiral staircase, he realized he was in some kind of stone structure. For a moment he dreaded the potential fact he might be in a mausoleum himself now, but the trickle of light soon calmed his fears. 

He could already tell it was night out as the soft glow of the moonlit up the inside of the chamber. It was only a small slit in the door that let it in, and Lance quickly realized the door was cracked open by a single dagger of all things. It had been wedged between the exit door and the stone so tightly it was like a door stopper. 

“Well at least someone thought ahead.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck, thanking whichever looter had the foresight to keep the door cracked. Too bad it didn’t pay off for them. Lance pressed his free hand against the door and pushed, and it didn’t budge even a bit. Even the dagger barely moved.

“Okay so this is a two-handed job.” Lance realized before putting Cecil down against the wall. The cleric cracked his knuckles and with all the strength he could muster, pressed himself up against the door and began to slowly force it open with the grotesque scratching of stone on stone filling up the little atrium. Lance heard vines snap as he struggled with his footing, but he made slow progress. His arm muscles started to burn just as his legs did, his endurance spell now running out like water from broken glass. 

“Come- ON!” Lance groaned as he began to feel the shift speed up, and with his gathered momentum, he forced the door all the way open, the dagger, now relieved of it’s duty, clattering to the ground. “Okay, home stretch now Lance.” He said to himself as he looked through the opening, quickly casting Detect Evil and Good to ensure they weren’t going to end up on another vampire’s property. There was nothing until Lance looked down to where Cecil laid, and the fact he could see that red vampiric aura meant that he was alive and well. “Okay we’re all clear. Now sorry about this Ivy.” 

There was now even more moonlight that came through the ivy that was still wrapped around the door. Lance picked up the dagger, feeling the edge was still sharp enough and used it to slice through the last unbroken layers of ivy before pocketing it in one of his empty belt slots. He pushed the door open the rest of the way, feeling the moonlight and fresh air wash over him like a dream. As much as he wanted to run outside and bathe in the moonlight, he made sure to lift Cecil up and carry him out. They were both free. 

Once outside, Lance laid Cecil in the grass without much of a second thought before he took a look around. From what he could recognize, this entrance was underneath that lush, overgrown garden Lance had seen when he first arrived. The structure that hid the entrance was part of a large ornate sculpture in the garden now overgrown with ivy. Lance wasn’t sure what kind of ivy, but without looking any closer he would’ve been willing to bet it was Poison Ivy, just to cause a little more discomfort. 

Lance couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he enjoyed the fresh night air and the coolness of the moon. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it, so much so that he almost didn’t even want to go back inside the castle. 

“Y’know I could easily set up camp out here...Dames has the tent but that doesn’t matter really. We really do deserve the fresh air I think” Lance was talking both to himself and to Cecil. However, he realized camping outside with no tent with a vampire might prove utterly disastrous if it became morning too soon. “But I guess we should go inside, I don’t want you waking up with the world’s worst sunburn.” Lance stretched his arms and back, ready to pick up the tiny vampire again while being thankful Cecil weighed absolutely nothing to him. Lance turned around, and saw how he had left Cecil laying down, the other looking so small, but Lance could see he was breathing easier now. He knelt down and put his arm around Cecil’s back and legs, sitting him upright before carrying him. 

“Alright let's get you in-” Lance said as he sat him upright, Cecil’s hair cascading up from the grass. But there was a problem. “In-inside…” Lance’s jaw dropped in both wonder and horror at the sight. “Oh no…” 

Cecil’s silver-grey hair, down to the very last curl, had all gone pure, bright, white. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm hitting a block so I'm sorry this takes a while to update! Especially with classes starting, but I turned this in for a final project (cutting out chapter 6) and I got an A! Please leave any feedback or comments and don't be afraid to say hi @gaycalculator on Instagram and tumblr!


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